Charades
by bandtogetherandfight
Summary: AU - Alone at college, Rachel asks Jesse to pretend to be her boyfriend again.
1. Chapter 1

She had hoped that college would be better.

How was she supposed to know that even NYU was filled with Quinn Fabray lookalikes and Santana Lopez wannabes?

Rachel was beginning to realize that teenage girls were the same pretty much anywhere. She had always been mature for her age and had suspected as much, but somewhere deep inside she had always hoped that she was wrong.

She shares her nine by twelve foot room with Mitra, a Sikh father's perfect little girl by day and campus slut by night. They had gotten off to the wrong foot when Rachel had held up a tin of her famous sugar cookies, packed from Lima, and Mitra had informed her that she couldn't eat anything other than the perfectly portioned dinners her mother had delivered to the dorm every week.

She had added that maybe Rachel should consider the same, but, on second thought, maybe not, because, technically, the nose was made out of cartilage anyway.

She tries to fit in, but it's not her fault that her dads have raised her on classics and musicals, and, consequently, she doesn't find _The Hangover_ all that funny or entertaining. She doesn't smoke for fear of wrecking her voice, and she doesn't drink since her second experience with hard liquor had coincided with her first ever sexual experience, and she still hasn't quite forgiven herself for it.

Despite promises that they would remain friends always, her and Kurt's relationship now consists of a Facebook post once a week, and the random text message if he hooked up with anyone that she would approve of. Her dads are her only regular confidantes, and she refuses to reveal the extent of her loneliness to them, focusing on her classes and the school's vast realm of opportunities when she speaks to them on the phone.

She has acquaintances, if not friends: people she eats with in the dining hall, people she walks with to class if she catches them on the way, but she doesn't have that group of girlfriends that she had always desired, a group that was present each time she had envisioned her life in New York before she got there.

She's never been shy, but she doesn't effortlessly command attention like Mitra does, nor does her personality easily give way to becoming a sheep among the pack, either. So, she's stuck on the outskirts, not exactly fitting in, but not as obviously left out as the obese girl down the hall or the blind student on the third floor.

With her classes and extracurricular activities, she has no real time for boys, but she watches helplessly as boys in her dorm who she has quiet crushes on fall for the pretty and shallow popular girls. She had even once been woken up to the sound of Andy - the sophomore who had helped her with her calc homework and who she had thought might have liked her back - groaning as Mitra emerged from under her comforter, having previously been somewhere near the region of Andy's groin.

She had left the room under the pretense of fury, but had cried as soon as she got to the communal bathroom. Andy was cute, but he had been a safety option; he was nowhere near the Rachel Berry standard for a boyfriend.

She was failing at life.

She's been at NYU for about six weeks and is prepping for her first round of quizzes on a couch in the lounge when it happens. Someone walks in and tacks a large poster to the bulletin board on the wall. If the large title is any indication, the poster advertises the new school play, a modern production of _Romeo and Juliet_. Like a magnet, the image draws the attention of every girl in the room.

"He's so cute," she hears someone stage whisper, and the gaggle of girls all mumble their general assent.

Rachel gives up on studying, slams her science book closed, though no one is paying her any attention. She makes her way over to where they are all standing, hoping that for once, her knowledge of theater will make her an indispensable part of the conversation.

When she finally gets a good look at the poster, she realizes that she is equipped to speak to far more than the ironies that persist throughout Shakespeare's most popular work: Jesse St. James's hand is resting comfortably near his pretty co-star's right breast, a position it had taken him almost two weeks to achieve back in her bedroom in Lima.

She stands with her mouth open, because, as far as she knows, Jesse St. James is somewhere out in California, far far away from this dorm, and, accordingly, her life.

"Who is that?" she voices aloud, berating herself immediately afterwards, the question sounding stupid to her ear. There is no question, no doubt in her mind.

A junior, Nixon, who lives down the hall but has never spoken to Rachel before, uses her question as an opportunity to release his obvious frustration about the campus superstar.

"Jesse St. James. He's a junior theater major and the most pompous bastard that you will ever meet, even though he has no reason to be. Sure, he's good-looking and possibly talented, but he lives in a ratty apartment and works at Starbucks. I have no idea why girls go gaga over him. If you ask me, I think he's quite the homo with all this theater and singing crap." Nixon shakes his head towards the group of girls, many of whom, Rachel is sure, tuned him out after the word pompous.

"You must be wrong," Rachel responds, focusing on the most minor thing that is bewildering her, "His parents are incredibly wealthy. There is no way he would have to work, or live in anything but luxury."

Nixon seems to brush off her words, but they unexpectedly catch the attention of the group of girls that surround Jesse's picture, among them, Lisa, Mitra's bff for life.

"You know him?" Lisa asks, her tone incredulous.

Rachel senses the importance of whatever comes out of her mouth next, the possible impact it could have on finally impressing these girls.

"He's my ex," she starts, trying to overemphasize what had been a six-week relationship that ended when Jesse had smashed an egg on her head, "We dated in high school and I haven't seen him since we broke up over two years ago."

"You two dated?" another girl questions, glancing back at the poster and then to Rachel, "Really?"

Rachel nods, at a loss for words. The girls seem to be waiting for more.

"I always thought we would get back together," Rachel finally admits to her audience, and she's surprised to learn that it doesn't feel like a lie, "I had no idea he was here."

"You should invite him over to the dining hall sometime," Lisa suggests with excitement in her voice, "We would all love to meet him."

Rachel finds it hard to sleep that night, plagued with memories of Jesse that may be dreams or fantasies, and an idea that just won't die.

She's already looked him up in the student directory and confirmed that he lives somewhere out in Harlem, in a neighborhood that she gathers from Google Earth is not the best, far worse than even Lima's active crack district.

It's nearing 3am when she finally makes up her mind to do what she's been planning to do all along. She drags on a sweatshirt to fend off the early October chill, and makes her way down to the curb and hails a cab.

It only occurs to her when she's standing on the sidewalk in front of his apartment building, contemplating all the ways her dads would kill her if they knew where she was at this hour, that he may not be home, or, worse, he may not be alone.

The cab drives off and there is no choice, because God knows she isn't safe out here on his block.

The lock to the main door has apparently been tampered with, and it offers no resistance to her attempt to push it open. Apartment 304 is on the third floor, she assumes, and she makes her way there, not understanding how it feels colder inside than it does out.

She bangs on his door, not feeling safe in the hallways either, and it doesn't take long (a couple of chains and a deadbolt) for him to appear in front of her, rubbing his eyes, and trying to determine if it really is _her._

"Rachel?" He glances out into the hallway and drags her inside by the hand, "What the hell are you doing here? Do you have any idea how unsafe this neighborhood is?"

She doesn't answer him because she's distracted by the state of the so-called apartment he lives in. His kitchen consists of a single burner next to a sink, his bed is a yoga mat piled with blankets, and he must share a bathroom with someone else, because there is none that she can see.

He watches her take it in, runs his hands through his hair as he gives her an explanation.

"My dad refused to support me after I transferred here. This is the best I can do on my own. We always knew the road to fame wouldn't be easy, right?" he chuckles uneasily, praying that she will humor him by participating in the joke.

She doesn't, and continues to look as awkward as she feels.

Her next sentence could not be a more distinct contrast to their surroundings, dress, and state of mind, not to mention the fact that they haven't seen each other in years. "I have a business proposition for you."

He looks at her in disbelief and she almost smiles. "You need money, obviously, and I am in need of your acting services."

His confusion only increases. "Are you working on some sort of project?"

She shakes her head and looks down at his shitty carpet, mumbles something he can't quite make out.

"What?"

She raises her head and squares her shoulders, a gesture that he recognizes as being components of her show stance. He can tell that whatever is coming he's not going to like.

"I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend," she states matter of factly, "You're familiar with that concept, aren't you?"


	2. Chapter 2

I.

"No."

She hadn't expected to be shot down so easily; had come prepared with a list of arguments, and counterarguments to his counterarguments.

She's planned this all out perfectly in her head. If only he would play along with what she wants.

He never has before.

"You did it before," Rachel affirms calmly, quieting her inner voice. "I don't know what motivated you," she states casually, "I don't even want to know how Shelby got you to do it, but it looks like you could use the money. I'll match whatever Starbucks is paying you for 10 hours a week."

"That was different. God, Rachel, that was high school!"

This is back to the territory that Rachel was expecting. "How is it different?" She prompts him, "Different time, different place, but it seems like the same thing to me."

Instead of answering, he lets out a loud sigh that almost makes her jump, and turns towards the window, bracing his body weight against the bars attached to it.

"It will get better, Rach," he says so quietly that she can barely hear him. "Everyone sets out to prove themself in New York so they act like assholes. Just give it time and remember that you're still better than them."

She's glad that he can't see her face, because she would not be able to hide the fact that his surprisingly on point declaration, not to mention the use of the nickname only he had ever really used, has temporarily robbed her of her bravado.

"I don't want to wait," she declares, her conviction evident. "I've just come from four years of having few friends, being slushied, egged, victimized by the cheerleaders, and basically treated like crap by every boy I've ever dated." She spits the last part out and feels somewhat victorious when he bows his head.

"New York was supposed to be the great escape. This is what I've strived for. And NYU, at least, has been more of the same. Not anymore. This is my city and my time, so I'm going to do what I need to do to make it _mine_."

She finishes with a flourish of her hands that feels frustratingly pathetic. She hadn't meant to bare her soul like that to him, but she's never shared her disappointment with anyone, and it feels good to get it out. Now that she has, she's struggling to get back to the perfectly written argument she has prepared in her head.

"I'm asking you to provide a service," Rachel explains, "You seem to be quite popular on campus, and it is quite serendipitous that you're here. I can actually make use of the considerable talent that I fell victim to. Think of it as an acting exercise."

She's only looking at his back, but she sees him flinch when she, unknowingly, echoes the words that had been his rationalization to himself for the pain he had caused her.

It feels even cheaper - -even less true - leaving her lips.

"If you don't want to accept my offer, then I'll be going." Despite her words, she makes no move towards the door.

Finally, thankfully, he turns around. "How can you afford $120 a week … on this?"

She takes mental note of the turn in the conversation. "I have discretionary funds thanks to my scholarship. I choose to think of it as an investment in my social and professional future." Her tone is no-nonsense, and she is glad when the line comes out exactly as she had imagined it in her head.

He bows his head again and nods to himself, and she thinks she can detect a small smile on his face.

She thinks he approves.

"And give me the general storyline."

She can't suppress her own smile when she hears this, but tries to distract him from it by tucking stray pieces of hair behind her ear. She had forgotten how much they thought alike, how often during their short relationship they had been on the same page …until the end.

She had been in love, and he obviously hadn't been.

She is slightly embarrassed, but lays out the story for him: a rekindling of their relationship through a phone call, a few well-thought out dates to remind themselves of the searing connection they had once shared, a few weeks of perfect romance, and an eventual breakup by the end of the semester, when her social standing would be in a better state.

(She doesn't mention that last bit.)

"I still have to figure out what causes our breakup," she explains somewhat meekly. "_I_ dump _you_ of course," she stresses, "But I'm not sure why yet."

"Of course," Jesse mirrors, using the same assured tone she had seconds before.

"So do we have a deal?" Rachel links her hands in front of her and squares her shoulders again, looking him in the face.

"No." He states it evenly, nonchalantly, as if she should have expected it. She hadn't.

Her cool, calm demeanor drops instantaneously, her arms reaching up to fold across her chest and her eyes narrowing to glare at him.

"You owe me," she challenges him. It was the one argument she had not wanted to use. Given the situation, she doesn't want to appear the least bit vulnerable to him. She seems to remember that he likes to play on that.

"The kind of heartbreak that girls like you hold for the rest of their lives, like Barbra in _The Way We Were._" He looks at her with a slight smirk and a raised eyebrow.

She's shocked that he remembers, because she herself has forgotten saying those words to him in that dark auditorium years ago. She recognizes them now and swallows, displaced again from her comfort zone.

"Exactly," she finally manages.

"One of the most dramatic and moving lines I'd heard in a long time," he almost whispers, "I'd be remiss to forget."

They're eyeing each other, and she gets the strong sense that somewhere along the way she lost control of the conversation. Somehow, they're on even footing.

He unexpectedly reaches up to stroke her cheek with his thumb, drawing her questioning gaze up to his.

He's obviously overstepping his bounds, but she is powerless to stop him as he continuously traces patterns on her face, the simplicity of the motion lulling her into complacence.

He leans down towards her and she finds herself meeting him halfway until their foreheads touch, like she's caught up in some trance. It's been a long time since she's done anything like this.

"What…" she eventually blurts out, the simple word the only thing she can produce.

"Just checking to make sure that we still have enough chemistry to wow our audience," Jesse states, completely unaffected, as he withdraws from the force field between them.

"Fine," he says, after a while.

"Really?" The surprise and relief in her voice leaks out before she has the good mind to stop it, but she's a little distracted by the earlier heat between them.

Passion and chemistry had _never_ been their problem.

"I would be honored to work with you on your two person show, Ms. Berry." He does a little bow while he says it, and she honestly can't tell if he is mocking her or not.

If she's honest with herself, control and trust had been their issues. It seems ominously ironic that she's about to enter into a business relationship with him.

Regardless, they shake hands and it's a done deal.

II.

They agree to meet and hammer out the details the following afternoon at the Starbucks where he's working the evening shift.

He's at the counter entertaining two girls from his 18th Century English Lit class when she walks in.

He had told her to bring work with her because he never had anyway of predicting how busy the shop would be on any given Friday afternoon. Today is probably one of the last few warm days of the fall, which means that orders for frappucinos are up, but the coffee shop itself is virtually empty.

She's wearing a tank top and tiny shorts, her legs on full display. In one smooth motion, she moves her sunglasses from covering half her face to sit on top of her head, so that they hold her bangs back. She smiles at him and walks towards one of the quieter tables in the back with the comfy armchairs, usually a prime spot, but today it's hers for the taking.

Natalie, the blonde of the two girls, pokes him in the arm, "Earth to Jesse." The other girl, as luck would have it, also Jessie, follows his gaze across the room to Rachel before proclaiming, "She's not your type," with her nose scrunched in Rachel's direction.

But she is, he wants to correct her. She always has been.

Jesse had never been more thankful for the innate St. James charm than when he had showed up on the NYU campus, penniless with a whole horde of dreams. He had dreaded working at a Starbucks that many of his fellow students frequented, but girls were attracted to his talk of Broadway dreams, and his work ethic, which translated naturally from show choir. They visited the coffee shop regularly to see him and always left great tips, often with their phone numbers. Guys, too, seemed to be little concerned about his new economic status, and he and many of his friends had bonded over finding free food events and cheap beer in a way that he knew would not have been possible had he been the rich boy from Akron.

Over the last year, he's managed to scrape by, working just enough hours at Starbucks to feed and house himself while balancing his classes and theater. Despite the unmistakable downgrade in living conditions, he's happy here in New York, much happier than he had been in LA. Transferring to NYU without his parents' support and without the security of a scholarship that also included meals and housing had been hard, but completely worth it.

He had wondered how long it would be before he and Rachel crossed paths again, though he could have never imagined anything on the scale of last night. Leave it to Rachel Berry.

Starting back in September, he had looked for her on the quad, memorizing her dorm's address and keeping an eye out for her whenever he was in the area. Once, he had recognized her as she was boarding a bus, but she seemed distracted, not in the least bit concerned about someone openly staring at her from across the street.

He's grateful for the opportunity, now, to truly see her. She looks at ease, but he can tell that this is not the same Rachel Berry that he left back in Ohio with a victorious glance over his shoulder at Regionals. She's obviously jaded, like someone (or maybe more than one someone) had used her and thrown her away.

He doesn't need three guesses as to who that is.

Still, she looks beautiful, with her knees pulled up to her chest as she sits in the chair, reading the large textbook perched on her lap. Her skin is tan, and she's chewing on the end of her pink highlighter thoughtfully as she reads.

He reflects on their conversation last night and smiles when he realizes that technically he is looking at his girlfriend.

He's not thrilled that she's paying him to be with her, but he wasn't about to suggest what was really in his head: that they try this for real. Had he said that, he knows, she would have turned and walked out of his life forever.

At least this way, maybe he has a chance at convincing her by letting her think that she is in charge. He's an excellent actor, yes, but he's sure, given a playing field free of Ohio show choir rivalries, that he can be _her _excellent boyfriend.

He thinks he was well on his way of convincing her last night with his little 'audition.'

Her experiment might be the most fun thing he's done since he left Vocal Adrenaline. Having almost $500 more a month in savings won't hurt either.

He makes his way over to join her with an iced vanilla latte with soymilk, which used to be her favorite coffee drink back in high school.

She thanks him, and explains that even though she's give up veganism in favor of plain old vegetarianism, she still prefers soy milk in her coffee.

"That's on your list of notes," she adds, while digging in her bag.

He looks at her, confused, until she produces two black folders from her backpack and hands one to him. Last night, she had asked for his weekly schedule, mentioning that she would plan their dates around it. In true Rachel Berry style, the result is an army of color coded schedules and diagrams mapping out his schedule, hers, rehearsals for Romeo & Juliet, their dates, and accompanied by all sorts of lists detailing her favorite restaurants, t.v. shows and movies (all marked with 'CURRENT: October 2012'). There's even a daily schedule for the next two weeks, outlining all the times that she expects to receive text messages and emails.

She painstakingly explains to him the method to her madness, pointing out the different colors she used for the different things, and the ideas she'd sketched out for their dates. "I tried to be really cost efficient because of your financial situation. It was really challenging, but I think I managed to come up with some creative ideas."

He looks defeated for a minute, because he wishes that he could do what he used to do back in LA, when he impressed girls with $80 tickets to concerts on the first (and usually last) date. She picks up on his irritation, but misinterprets it, moving to rest her hand on his arm. "This is on me, remember? We just have to make it believable."

He didn't think it was possible, but she is making him feel even worse about this whole thing.

"Which reminds me," she starts, after an awkward hesitation, "I've got the money for your first week right here. But before that…"

She hands him what looks to be a contract. Of course, he thinks, typical lawyer's child.

As he flips through the pages, he can see that it outlines a lot of the things they have already discussed: ten hours a week, $120, an obligation not to see anyone else, and duties to call, text, and appear with her in public. Somewhere near the end, before her perfect signature, she reserves the right to call off the arrangement at any time.

She nervously watches him read, and doesn't say anything until he looks back up at her.

"You have to sign both copies. And I don't have to tell you what would happen if this document were to fall into the wrong hands."

He nods, and, without further hesitation, signs his name where the little _Sign Here_ sticker tells him to, then reaches for her copy and does the same.

They both sit in silence for a minute until a bunch of people, obviously coming from some soccer game, start lining up to place their orders. Another barista, Joe, is already at the register, but he needs to go help out.

They both stand at the same time, and she slings her bag back over her shoulders.

"So I guess I'll see you tomorrow," she says quietly, playing with the end of her ponytail, "Brunch at noon in the dorm cafeteria."

"I'll be there," he confirms.

His eyes glance back towards the line at the register and she takes it as her cue to leave, turning towards the door.

He refocuses, and remembers that this is the role of his lifetime.

"Rach," he calls to her, grabbing her hand before she moves, and planting a kiss on her cheek, in response to which multiple people in the line go aaww, "I can't wait for our first date tomorrow."

* * *

><p><em><strong>I am truly blown away by the reaction to this story! Thank you all for your kind reviews. I hope this lives up to your expectations! I am aiming to have a chapter out each week. <strong>_

_**And, let me know if you have (affordable) date suggestions. I have a couple planned, but I would love to incorporate some of your ideas.**_


	3. Chapter 3

I.

She's surprised that she actually has butterflies. It's not as if it's a real date.

It feels like one though, especially because a good chunk of the female population of her floor is currently in her room, helping her decide between two dresses that are pretty much the same.

Upon Rachel's admission that Jesse was coming to brunch for their first date, her roommate, Mitra, had marshaled all the girls she could find to share in the gossip.

It basically comes down to a choice between white and blue.

"Blue is casual and flirty," someone states approvingly, while Rachel is wearing the blue dress and scrutinizing herself in the mirror.

"But white is virginal," Mitra, suggests, "It's a winner every time."

Rachel wrinkles her nose in the mirror at Mitra's comment. "Well that settles it, then. Blue it is, because that ship has definitely sailed."

The room erupts into giggles and Lisa shouts, "Here, Here!"

"Was Jesse your first, Rachel?" another girl, Brie, asks quietly from her position on the floor by Mitra's bed.

She smiles softly as she shakes her head 'No' in the mirror, still surprised that she has managed to command this much attention.

She already loves it. Best money she ever spent.

By now, she's told them all the lies to set the stage for the story: the phone call she had made to Jesse the night of the poster to congratulate him on the play, and then, at _his_ invitation, visiting him at Starbucks yesterday to reconnect, which led to brunch this morning. She's slightly wary of the fact that from here on out it won't be lies. Even with as much directions as she has given Jesse, the story will write itself from now on, before a full, live audience.

Maybe that explains the butterflies.

"We only dated for a short time when I was fifteen," Rachel explains in response to Brie's question, although it feels like a weak justification. She and Finn hadn't been back together for more than a month after their third breakup before she lost her virginity to him at a summer party.

"So why does he mean so much to you?" Mitra asks in a curious, but not unfriendly tone, completely unaware of what a loaded question it is. Rachel takes a minute to compose her thoughts by grabbing a cardigan off one of the shelves of her closet and slipping it into the tote bag on her bed.

"Did you ever know someone that just understood you without you having to explain yourself?"

Some of the girls in the room smile, and others shake their heads. Each of them is hanging on to her every word.

"We like a lot of the same things, and we have a lot of the same goals. You don't meet many people like that in Ohio."

Brie, who is from North Dakota, voices her understanding and the rest of the girls laugh.

Rachel has thought about the similarities between her and Jesse very much over the last two nights. Despite her shock at finding out that he was here at NYU, in some ways she had always expected to see him again.

"Has he changed a lot?" someone else asks, "Especially since he's not…"

She had also explained Jesse's new financial situation and his parent's rejection of his chosen path, because many of the girls were surprised that he worked for minimum wage at a coffee shop.

"He's grown up," Rachel admits, "But he's still the same person."

"He basically said fuck you to his parents," Lisa praises him, "How many of us wouldn't want to do that?"

Mitra shouts out a dramatic "Amen" and the room devolves into giggles again.

"I can't wait to meet him!" Chelsea, another of Mitra's girlfriends says, walking into the room to join the party. "You think there is still something there between you two?"

Rachel rallies all of her acting skill when she bites her lip and breathes in dramatically. "I hope so," she tells them.

She knows for a fact that she won't be giving this up any time soon.

II.

Jesse shows up right on time, dressed casually, but smartly, in cargo shorts and a blue plaid shirt. If he's surprised that she's being followed downstairs by a dozen or so girls, his expression doesn't let on.

Lisa nudges Rachel's shoulder and whispers, "The blue was a good choice," before the girls all branch off towards the dining hall, leaving her to greet Jesse alone. Even so, she's sure that many of them are still watching, and whispering to each other behind their food trays.

Though they are essentially alone now, and this is officially part of the act, she still feels the butterflies in the pit of her stomach when his eyes rake over her before he leans down to kiss her cheek.

After they grab food, she leads him toward one of the larger tables where a lot of the people she knows usually sit. Many of the girls from this morning are already seated, having quickly grabbed pieces of fruit in lieu of a real meal. Some of the guys from her dorm are also there, wolfing down plates of bacon and eggs.

She makes quick introductions, and she and Jesse attempt to join the guys' existing conversation about the midnight premiere of the newest comic book movie. Jesse seems to fit in effortlessly; despite the fact that she can tell that his interest in the movie is minimal at best.

Thanks to the girls at the table, however, talk quickly turns to her and Jesse's relationship. They ask about how they met, and when Rachel tells them about the music store, she realizes just how over the top it sounds.

"We always did have a flair for the dramatic," she says wistfully, turning to Jesse with a genuine smile, caught up in the moment.

The story behind their breakup requires a bit more effort. "I was going off to college in California and she still had two more years left in high school," Jesse explains while toying with the salt shaker, "It seemed like the best decision at the time."

He turns to her for reassurance, and she nods. Many of the girls shoot her sympathetic glances.

"Did you know that you were going to meet up again here at NYU?" Jed, a guy Rachel only knows as the guy who walks around the dorm in his boxers, asks.

Rachel shakes her head 'No' while Jesse nods, and the rest of their table laughs at their divergent but simultaneous responses.

Rachel bites her lip, suddenly nervous, because this was one area that she had neglected in her extensive notes. In her head, and she had just assumed that Jesse was on the same page, this had been a serendipitous, chance meeting.

Moreover, it was the truth.

She turns to look at Jesse, confused, "What do you mean you knew we were going to meet again here? I had no idea you even attended school here for weeks."

"You've known exactly where you wanted to go to college since you were ten, Rach. I knew you were going to be here when I transferred."

He doesn't say the words, but everyone at the table makes the connection that he had wanted them to: that he had transferred knowing that he would see her again, perhaps _because_ he would see her again.

Now that she considers it, it makes perfect sense. Obviously he would have known she would have come to NYU eventually.

She sees Mitra and Lisa shoot her approving, and possibly jealous glances, and she feels herself start to blush. She doesn't know what to make of his revelation.

"I figured we would meet up again sooner or later," he continues before taking a bite of his bagel.

They all fall into comfortable silence while they finish eating. Mitra is the first to leave, having only had a banana, informing the rest of the table that she was heading to the gym.

Neither Rachel nor Jesse is paying her much attention, until Mitra addresses Jesse directly: "I see you at the gym playing basketball sometimes, Jesse. Maybe one day I'll take you on. It was good to meet you. See you around, I guess."

Before she goes, Mitra stretches her arms to the ceiling and her tank top rides up, showing her flat stomach to everyone in what Rachel thinks is an obvious ploy for attention. Rachel only just refrains herself from rolling her eyes in her roommate's direction.

Jesse nods at Mitra, but his focus is still intently on his food. "Nice to meet you too."

III.

She had arranged for them to take a walk after brunch, because although the public and most important part of their date for her purposes was over, she had figured it would look odd if they didn't actually spend time alone on their first date.

They walk out of the dining hall together, both quiet and lost in their own thoughts. Rachel is trying to think of where they can go, but Jesse's mind seems to be in a completely different place.

"I think that went well," he whispers conspiratorially, bending down so that his mouth is level with her ear.

She smiles and nods. "The girls in my dorm are rooting for us," she jokes in the same whisper, "I dare say that we have captivated our audience."

"As if there was any doubt."

"My roommate definitely likes you," she adds, trying to make it sound like an afterthought, even though she desperately wants to hear his reaction to Mitra's obvious flirtation.

Disappointingly, "Hmmm," is the only response she gets from him.

She feels a sudden surge of awkwardness. Technically, they have no one to pretend for anymore, but they do have to continue their date. A quiet walk seems like an uncomfortable way to spend the next hour.

"Do you have anything you want to do?" Rachel asks. "We're supposed to take a walk, but I don't really know where to go."

"I have an idea," he mentions, and grasps her hand. "Have you ever been to the farmer's market on 29th and 12th?"

Although she had only budgeted another hour for their date, they end up spending most of their afternoon at the farmer's market, sampling fresh fruit and fresh-baked bread as they weave their way through the stalls. He waits for her as she browses through booths of jewelry and ethnic scarves, commenting on what looks good or silly. At one point, she pointedly dares him to try on an old hat when he makes fun of one she chooses, and, when he does, even the salespeople join in on their laughter.

They are leaving a booth full of old books when he asks, seemingly out of the blue, "Am I allowed to ask a question?"

"You just did," she teases automatically, "But go ahead."

"I would have thought that a six foot three, good-looking, high school quarterback would have made the perfect pretend boyfriend for you."

She stops moving and looks him in the eye. "Don't go there."

He shrugs and lets it go, keeps walking down the street. Eventually, she jogs to catch up to him so that they can walk back to campus together.

The walk back is quiet, and she hates that she had to ruin the cheerful mood they had both been in earlier.

Right before they get back to her dorm, she stops him by tugging at his arm. "Finn is with Quinn at Ohio State," she tells him quietly. "They've been engaged since graduation."

He's quiet for a long time until he finally says, "His loss," and she doesn't try to hide her smile.

He walks her to the steps of her dorm, and they stand there for a while, holding hands as they prepare to separate, mindful of the people watching them as they enter and leave the dorm.

He's got rehearsal for Romeo & Juliet all evening, and she has homework she had meant to do this afternoon.

It's on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she had a good time, but she thinks that it would be odd given the circumstances, and the fact that no one is around to hear them.

"I'll meet you at the library at two tomorrow for our study date?" he questions, mentally consulting the schedule she created for them.

She hesitates and looks away, buys time by playing with the strap of her dress. "Maybe we should postpone," she states.

"Did I do something wrong, Rachel?" he asks worriedly.

She pulls him away from the building, far enough away so that they have some privacy.

She hates the discomfiture of this part of their arrangement. When they are together, she almost forgets about the money.

"I can't afford to pay you for more than ten hours a week, Jesse, and we've spent almost six hours today. We need to stretch this week out and be more mindful about the span of our dates in the future. Today was my fault," she tells him apologetically, "I was having a really good time."

Her last sentence slips out without her meaning for it to, and he grins. "So was I."

"Look," he tells her, "We agreed on $120 a week. Let's stick to that and let the hours work themselves out. Especially with the show this week, my schedule could get crazy."

She contemplates this for a minute, debating the pros and cons of departing from their agreement in her head.

"Are you sure?" She looks up at him uncertainly.

He nods. "So I'll see you tomorrow?"

She smiles and nods. "Two in front of the library."

This time, she kisses him on the cheek, because it just feels right and she feels the need to thank him, though for what she's not exactly sure.

She walks into her room and is surprised to find Mitra, Lisa, and Chelsea there, each of them doing their nails, the strong smell of acetone pervading the small room.

"Finally! You've been gone all day!" Lisa exclaims. Mitra says nothing, but raises her fingers to her lips to blow on her wet nails.

"So?" Chelsea prompts, "Details?"

Rachel animatedly gives them a detailed description of the events of her day, and shows them the scarf she had ended up choosing. It requires barely little acting on her part. Ultimately, she sits down on her bed, and she finds that she can't quite turn off the smile on her face.

"Did he kiss you?" Mitra wants to know.

"Only on the cheek," Rachel admits, though part of her wishes she had something more dramatic or passionate to relate to them. The official answer, of course, is that their first actual kiss is not scripted until after their study date tomorrow, when he walks her home from the library.

All of them are basking in Rachel's obvious happiness when her phone buzzes.

"It's from Jesse," she reports, before reading the message.

_Rach, had a great time today. Can't wait to see you tomorrow _

Even though she had planned the exact period of time he was to wait to send the text message, it somehow still manages to surprise her.

The exhilaration that radiates through her upon reading his words is the part she hadn't planned on at all.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Next, we'll meet Jesse's Juliet!<strong> **Art imitating life or life imitating art? Dun dun dun...**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**It's short, but hopefully sweet!**_

I.

She's glad that none of her friends took her up on the offer to sit with her through Jesse's rehearsal for _Romeo and Juliet_.

She is sure that Mitra and the others would not have been able to withhold comment on the palpable chemistry between Jesse and his co-star, Autumn, not to mention the lingering glances and the way she hugs him in between scenes.

Correction – the way _he lets her_ hug him in between scenes.

Of course, if it had been necessary, she would have waxed poetic about her boyfriend's immense acting talent, and denied any sort of jealousy on her part. It's what any loyal girlfriend in a secure, committed relationship would do.

And she's not jealous.

She's not.

It's just that she's paying him to act, and he can obviously _perform_ so much better than he's been performing for her.

Unless he's not performing.

Oh, God.

Their first kiss, as scripted, took place after he walked her home from the library on Sunday evening. It had been short, impersonal, and not at all what she remembers _their_ kisses to be like.

A girl tends to remember the best kisses of her life. It's not a conscious decision, and there were times when she was with Finn that she would have preferred to be able to forget, but it is what it is, and she knows for a fact that whatever they had shared in front of her dorm had not been a Rachel and Jesse kiss.

She was sort of glad no one had been around to witness that, either.

Maybe he's saving all of the passion and intensity she's remembering for Autumn.

The proof is in the kiss.

She spends the entire two-hour rehearsal trying to decipher whether or not there is something going on between her _boyfriend_, and his decidedly pretty and talented (you'll never get her to admit that last part out loud) _co-star_ instead of doing the Calculus problem set she has to turn in first thing in the morning.

However, she momentarily forgets her anger when, after the director yells cut for the night, he calls her over and literally pulls her on-stage, introducing her to everyone as "his girlfriend," with a kiss to the cheek and a arm perpetually holding her firmly at his side.

The kiss on the cheek feels dreadfully weak after what just transpired on stage between Jesse and Autumn, but no one seems to pick up on it except her.

She introduces herself to Autumn and makes small talk, because it's what the loyal girlfriend in a secure, committed relationship would (has to) do.

II.

"Why are you pissed at me?"

His question comes out of nowhere, and she literally startles out of a lounging position on her bed.

It's snowing, and they both have major assignments coming up, so they decided to forego the movies for a Friday night study date instead.

For the last hour, he has been sitting at her desk, typing on his computer, and she has been pretending to read one of her lit books.

'Pretending' being the operative word because she's still dwelling on Autumn, wondering if there is more going on between them, despite being reluctant to ask.

She's going to have to rethink the timing of their dates if he's going to have this negative an effect on her productivity.

Anyway, now he's looking at her knowingly, and says "Yeah, right" when she tells him that she is "Not mad, and everything is fine."

"Are you kidding me Rachel? I know when you're upset. You haven't flipped a page in about half-an-hour."

Okay, he's got her there, and she decides to just screw it, and ask him directly.

She _is_ the boss of this relationship. (The business one, not the personal one. Not that there is a personal one. Right.)

"Are you sleeping with Autumn?"

"No," he says curtly, and then turns back towards the computer screen.

As if. He's not escaping that easily.

"Yeah, right," she says, echoing his tone from earlier.

He curses, and spins her chair around abruptly so that he faces where she's sitting on the bed.

"It's called acting, Rachel. Or have you forgotten what that is?"

His tone is icy, and this could get dangerous, she knows.

"Exactly, my point," she says in an angry whisper, mindful of escalating tones in a dorm full of prying girls. "I'm paying you for a service, and you're obviously capable of a much better performance than you have been delivering to me. If you're unable to make being my boyfriend believable, then we need to do something about that right now."

"I'm following the script perfectly," he whispers back spitefully. "It's not my fault that the writer has never had experience with a loving, passionate relationship, and her descriptions come across as lifeless and, how can I put this? …Limp."

She recognizes the insults hidden within his words, most of them targeted at Finn. Honestly, she has enough issues with Finn without Jesse criticizing their lack of passion, too.

Still, before she can formulate an adequate response, he continues. "Obviously, your script needs work. Here we are, two teenagers in college, star-crossed lovers apparently in your world, on a Friday night, with an empty dorm room, and we're sitting here _studying_."

She crosses her arms and glares at him. And, he's still not done. "God, I almost feel sorry for you. Finn must have…"

"OKAY!," she interrupts, and, miraculously, her words are still more on the whisper end of the spectrum. "Then let's talk about what the real issue is here – the fact that you're just not attracted to me as much as you are to her, and you likely never were."

It's more than she meant to say, and, though her tone is firm, her eyes betray her as they cloud with unexpected tears.

He, for his part, is stunned. "How the hell can you even think that? Do you even remember the nights we spent together in your room? Or did Finn wipe even memories of passion from your head?"

"It was all a game to you then," she accuses him, "You wanted me to sleep with you, an easy lay, and when you realized I wasn't going to, you stopped trying to seduce me. You didn't even think it was worth it to make the effort."

"It was clear you wanted Finn, Rachel. It was never me. I could see that. The whole world could see it. Why waste my time?"

"Exactly," she concurs. "I was never pretty or sexy enough for you. Not then. Not now. You can't kiss me like you kiss her. Maybe we should just call this whole thing off."

For a long time, there is silence, and she follows the seam of her bedspread all the way to the floor.

She only looks up when she feels his weight press into her mattress, and at the same time she hears her book and notebook fall to the ground as he pushes them off the bed.

"Come here," he says ominously.

This is the danger she could sense earlier.

Fright or flight, Rachel. Fright or flight?

She doesn't move.

He literally pulls her towards him by her legs, and looks her square in the eye as he kisses her on the lips.

A chaste kiss, but full of promise and desire, just like she had scripted their first kiss to be.

But instead of stopping there, he kisses the side of her neck, and moves further south to her collar-bone, then the top of her breasts.

She drops her head on top of his, absolutely lost in the sensation.

"Jesse," she breathes lightly.

It's even better than she remembers.

He stops so that he can look her in the eye.

"Say yes," he instructs her, threading his hand through her hair.

She doesn't trust her words so she nods, but it has the intended effect.

He's truly kissing her now, and _this_ script, _this _soundtrack, god, it's better than she could have ever fantasized.

He urges her to lie back on the bed, and he settles on top of her, snugly between her legs, and she doesn't think that anyone could ever script this sort of perfection.

His hand has dared to go under her shirt, just circling the clasp of her bra when Mitra barges into the room without knocking, and an "Oh shit. Sorry," before she hurriedly closes the door and walks out.

It distracts Jesse enough that he stops kissing Rachel, and she groans in protest.

He chuckles at her, presses a kiss to her nose before he speaks. "I guess that had the intended effect. She's probably telling all the girls right," kiss, "about," kiss, "now."

She falters for a minute when she realizes that he could still be playing the game, but then she rocks her hips into his and feels how hard he is against her.

She arches her neck up to kiss him again.

"I don't care," she tells him, and, for the first time since they started this whole thing, she might actually believe it.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thank you for sticking with this story! They were never supposed to get to this point so quickly, but I think I just needed St. Berry sexy times to improve my mood.<strong> _


	5. Chapter 5

_**Please, please note the change in rating!  
><strong>_

_**I'm so disenchanted by what I've heard has been going on with the show that this story has been hijacked by St. Berry sexy times. Don't worry, I'll get it back on track ... eventually.  
><strong>_

* * *

><p>He's really <em>really <em>good at this.

She can't pinpoint what his particular expertise is, but ultimately it occurs to her that maybe that, in and of itself, is the explanation.

There's no formula in his movements that she can discern, though she expects one given the precision and perfection with which he normally approaches his performances. Instead, sometimes it's a caress, a kiss, sometimes the whisper of a touch. He takes his time with her, and he rocks her world by showing her that the navel can indeed be an erogenous zone.

Go figure. Now she's a believer.

He has finally brought her over the edge after what feels like hours of tantalizing, teasing touches when Mitra pointedly and unapologetically reenters the room, heading straight for her laptop to check her email.

Rachel is topless, but thankfully sheltered by the comforter. She lets out a squeak, climbs off Jesse and ensures that both of them are relatively well-covered.

Mitra doesn't as much as spare them a glance, and begins composing an email.

It takes a couple of seconds for Rachel to regulate her post-orgasm breathing, and having Jesse noticeably hard against her thigh doesn't exactly help, but eventually she manages to arrange the sheet, sit up, and address her roommate.

"Mitra, hey," Rachel starts, rallying all of her acting prowess to mask her irritation and sound convincingly sweet. "Can you give us a minute? Both of us need to get dressed, and, I'm sorry about earlier, but we just need a couple more minutes."

Rachel smiles in the girl's direction, thinking that the slut queen couldn't possibly argue with that, but when Mitra finally looks to her, her roommate is rolling her eyes.

"You guys have been in here for an hour," she complains, "I need to get ready for Josh's party."

Rachel is so shocked, Mitra's assertion goes without response.

Rachel looks to Jesse who she thinks is being surprisingly quiet, but he is pushing against her body, has his eyes closed, and is taking deep, steady breaths.

God, he must be in absolute torture.

Rachel feels trapped. None of their clothes are within reach, and neither of them is in a state to venture out of the protective covering of the bedsheets.

She also knows that Mitra's attitude has nothing to do with Josh's party, it's jealously likely, and the other girl won't be helpful in the least to remedy their predicament.

It does occur to her to just screw it, and continue what they had been doing before Mitra walked into the room, but she's just shy enough that it won't happen.

Jesse lets out a low groan that he tries to mask, and Rachel understands, without him saying, that he's equal parts irritated and turned on by the situation, which isn't exactly helping his problem.

Without thinking too much about it, Rachel runs a comforting hand through his hair, winding one of his curls around her little finger.

As soon as she touches him, his eyes shoot open, as if her minor touch had sent electric shockwaves through his entire body.

She has never thought of him as vulnerable before, but there is no other word to describe the look on his face.

His hips snap towards her leg, causing another wave of desire to course through her.

He's not the only one turned on anymore.

Rachel turns back towards Mitra with new determination. "Can you at least hurry the hell up?" she snaps, and Rachel is pleased she can see Mitra's surprise through her attempted mask of indifference.

It seems to work, as the girl gets up, grabs her shower stuff, a dress out of the closet, and makes her way out of the room and towards the communal showers.

Rachel turns back to Jesse and whispers. "She takes really long showers."

Jesse makes a sound that Rachel knows she won't ever be able to get out of her mind, and it's followed by a desperate, "Rach, please."

Rachel smiles indulgently at him and kisses him chastely on the lips. "I'm here."

She scrounges in the gap between her bed and the wall for the bottle of edible berry massage oil that she keeps there for well, _you know_, and he watches her with wide eyes as she squeezes some into her palms and rubs them together, letting the bottle fall to the bed.

Before she reaches for him, she runs the fingers of her left hand across his lips, and pops her fingers into his mouth so that he can taste for himself what she's about to.

The sound that leaves his mouth is practically criminal.

Her hands slick with oil, she grasps him firmly and starts moving both hands up and down, applying pressure and then backing off, trying to keep him in as much suspense as he had done with her earlier.

She senses that he won't be able to last much longer. (Indeed, given her past experience, it's a miracle that he's lasted this long.)

Still, she wants to taste.

She has never once initiated this – has always felt that this particular action was more of a necessary response, a tit for tat, rather than an instigation - but things have never quite worked the way she plans them with Jesse.

They shouldn't really be doing this in the first place.

She kneels by his side and drops her head to place a few, almost tentative, licks around where he's throbbing and leaking, reveling in the taste of berries mixed with… the certain je ne sais quoi that is Jesse St. James.

When she meets his eye afterward, she can't place the look on his face, but he watches her until he explodes against her chest from her ministrations, dropping back against her pillows with a loud sigh.

It's obvious that any second orgasm she might have been expecting will have to wait, because he is absolutely wiped.

She climbs off the bed and wets one of the monogrammed handtowels her fathers had bought her in the old-fashioned sink in the corner that they almost never use.

She uses it first to clean her chest, but then she sensually wipes the warm, moist towel over where he's still hypersensitive, tidying up the final remnants of their intimacy.

He moans at the hot/cold perfection of it all, and reaches for her, dragging her up to his level and planting a meaningful kiss on her lips.

She falls asleep there against his chest, and doesn't wake up until the next morning at around 4am when he brushes his lips against her temple, crawls out of bed and tells her that he has to go to work.

II.

She doesn't respond to his text messages, calls or emails for the rest of the weekend.

He literally grabs her arm as she's walking on the quad towards her French class, and she still tries to pretend that she has no idea what he's angry about.

Finally, she breaks character. "We can't ever do that again."


	6. Chapter 6

_**I am really glad that people like St. Berry sexy times! This is a sort of hybrid chapter, some sexy and then the story gets back on track.**_

I.

"We can't ever do that again."

He just about stops himself from rolling his eyes at her and the dramatic tone she uses, but he'd be a liar if he said that he hadn't been expecting this reaction from her all along.

What he is currently witnessing is a full-on Rachel Berry freak-out, and, if he's being completely honest with himself, he's sort of missed them.

He swears that the things that other people find most annoying about her are the things he appreciates the most.

She folds her arms to emphasize how serious she is, and she's so damn cute that he smiles.

"I thought you enjoyed yourself," Jesse says softly, a hint of teasing in his voice. "I certainly did."

She has never quite been able to fight a blush, and it colors her cheeks now so much so that she defensively looks away.

"I'm not that kind of girl," she affirms, returning to look at him. "I don't know what came over me, but it's definitely not happening again."

"Not the kind of girl to make out with her boyfriend on a Friday night?" Jesse mutters in mock contemplation, "I don't understand."

Rachel narrows her eyes at him, glancing around to gauge how many other people are within earshot.

"You _know _what I mean," she tells him quietly, her jaw set. "And we're not doing this here."

She moves away from him, making her way towards her class, and he grabs her arm again.

"Then let's go somewhere we can talk."

"Jesse, I have class," she complains, trying to wrench her arm out of his grip.

"I'm just trying to uphold my side of this arrangement," he states loudly enough that he could potentially draw the attention of passersby, which causes her to have a minor panic attack.

"Stop," she warns him, in response to which he simply raises one eyebrow.

He can tell that he's gotten the message of his challenge across. He'll make a scene if he has to.

She accedes reluctantly. "Mitra should be out the rest of the afternoon," she volunteers. "We can talk there."

Back in her dorm room, she paces the small room fretfully, and he catches her every so often shooting a nervous glance at the bed.

He smirks to himself. He hadn't counted on this being fun. He will have to play the fine line between continuing with this insane charade of pretending to be her boyfriend, and calling her out on the real reason that she's feeling scared and trying to put so much distance between them.

"Something wrong, Rach?" he asks, startling her out of her pacing.

She takes a minute to gather her thoughts. "We shouldn't have crossed that line," she says diplomatically. "It complicates things too much, and I'm not sure what you're used to, but I'm not the type of girl that just fools around with random guys."

"I didn't realize I was some random guy," he says, and he doesn't quite have to feign the hurt he expresses.

"I'm paying you for your acting skills … not your … other skills," she finishes weakly. "If I were paying you to do _that_ it would be like … I'm pretty sure that would be prostitution, which is illegal in every state except Nevada, and being arrested in my first year of college is not what I had in mind when I moved to New York to pursue my Broadway dreams, and I'm sure it would be frowned upon if any casting director or agent were to find out, and although it's my understanding that that sort of quid pro quo happens often in the theater industry, I intend to become a Broadway phenom with my virtue wholly intact."

She gulps in some air after she finishes rambling and peers up at him, meekly waiting for his response.

"You're paying me for acting services," he says agreeably. "That doesn't mean that we can't engage in extracurricular activities that we both enjoy outside the workplace, so to speak."

She's shaking her head in disagreement, but she's not looking at him. "It's too complicated."

"Why?" he presses. "You're seventeen years old, Rachel. You have needs. You have desires. There's nothing wrong with that. There's nothing wrong with wanting to be close to someone; wanting to be with someone."

She sighs, because she doesn't know how to explain to him that she just doesn't do that. It's something that she's been thinking about all weekend. She has only been with one person in her entire life, and, at the time, she had deluded herself into thinking that Finn was the one – and would, for eternity, be the one.

Sometimes she wonders if Finn had always felt that way about Quinn.

She's not like Mitra, or any of her other slutty friends, who think of blow jobs as first date party favors, and who can have sex without any emotional consequences.

At least she had thought she wasn't like them.

She definitely wasn't like them when she didn't sleep with Puck or one of Blaine's warbler friends, or any of the guys that had crossed her path post-Finn.

Yet, Jesse had gotten her naked and her mouth around him in a matter of minutes, and she hadn't second-guessed it at the time, didn't actually think to regret it until Mitra had spread the news of the hook-up around the dorm, and all the girls had expressed judgment masked in surprise that Rachel would be so intimate with Jesse after only dating for a couple of weeks.

Talk about pot calling kettle black.

When she had started this little, um, arrangement, she had thought that was what she had wanted – for all the girls to see her as someone that guys were interested in and attracted to, someone that all the girls in her dorm would want to be or clamor to be friends with.

Obviously, she was willing to lie to make that happen, and had paid Jesse to do just that. But hearing what Mitra had told the other girls about what she had walked in on, and having it be totally and completely true – worse, even, given the actual circumstances – had affected Rachel in a way she hadn't expected.

Because she wasn't, and isn't, that type of girl.

Unless…

She feels unleashed with Jesse, a word that she had finally stumbled upon early Sunday morning as she lay awake replaying all the events of Friday night. With Finn, she had always played the role of the dutiful girlfriend, allowing him to be the dominant male, letting him lead in most, if not all, areas of their relationship. After her first disastrous experience with the cat calendars sophomore year, she had never tried to control their dates, much less their sex life.

Jesse doesn't make her feel shy or self-conscious or subdued. He's okay with letting her take control, but never hesitant to assert it if he wants to. She likes that give and take, and hadn't realized before now that she needed it.

On Friday, she had felt comfortable enough to assert her own desires when Jesse had asked, had responded vociferously to his attention, and had returned the pleasure in a more brazen way than she ever had before. Yet, she hadn't felt the awkwardness that she had thought was second nature when you were unclothed and vulnerable before someone else. She hadn't felt the need to cover herself and hide from him, not only in terms of her body, but what she herself had wanted.

It had been liberating.

But they had crossed a line. They are not in a conventional relationship – she's still hanging on to the business arrangement angle – and despite how much she may have enjoyed their night, she knows herself to well, and she won't be able to become involved in a sexual relationship with him without implicating her feelings in some way.

Those old feelings are already starting to resurface, and, now they're accompanied by images and sense-memories that she can't quite erase from her head.

They have to stop.

But then he's kissing her, and she knows this is his way of saying that he's done arguing, that they're talking and thinking too much, when they could be doing so much more.

Every single coherent thread of resistance leaves her brain.

He breaks the kiss. "We're attracted to each other, so we have sex. There's nothing wrong with you allowing yourself to be with someone who respects you, and who won't hurt you simply because you want to. No one should judge you for that. It's your life."

It's absolutely killing him to not call her on her bullshit and state that the real reason she's having second thoughts is because she has feelings for him, and that she wants this beyond any level of simple physical satisfaction. She may be an excellent actress, but he has always been able to read her like an open book.

But if this is what she says she wants right now, he's willing to go along with her self-delusion.

It's only a matter of time, anyway.

She starts fidgeting as she tries to make up her mind, and he's drawn to her legs, clad today in cinnamon-colored tights and a barely there mini-skirt. Just the way he likes them.

Surprisingly, it's his distraction that seemingly finalizes her decision.

"My eyes are up here," she teases lightly, causing him to grin.

He reaches down and grabs her behind her knees, picking her up so that they're eye-to-eye with her legs around his waist.

"I missed those legs," he tells her in a low, sexy voice. "I have this fantasy from when we were dating … your legs parted for me, and your thighs pressing against my head as I…"

He swallows hard, his eyes half-closed, and he doesn't finish his sentence.

They both get the point.

She finds herself nodding, as if in a trance, but she has one thing she has to say first.

"I don't want to go all the way," she tells him in a soft voice. "That's going too far and crossing too many lines. But we can…"

He nods, cutting her off. "Okay."

To be honest, she had expected more resistance than that, and is pleased that he will respect her wishes.

"Okay," she agrees.

II.

She actually laughs to herself when she looks at the clock and sees that it's still late morning, and on any other Monday she would be staring blankly at her professor instead of recovering from one of the most intense experiences of her life.

He tickles her ribs to get her attention, and she looks over at him.

"We might need to get some tea and lemon for the harm you just did to your voice," he says teasingly, referring to just how loud she had been a moment ago. "Wasn't that more fun than French class?"

She turns red, thoroughly embarrassed, and he looks like he regrets his words.

"You have nothing to be ashamed about," he reassures her. "That's just the obnoxious male ego talking. I may be far superior to most men," he says with a smile, "But sometimes base instincts do take over."

She gives him a playful shove, but it manages to break the tension, which is good, because she's never really done the friends with benefits thing before.

"So…" she says, "What now?"

Jesse smiles. "You are going to blow off classes for the rest of the day, because I'm taking you on a date. I think it will make quite the impression on the girls, if I do say so myself."

They end up at the Columbus Circle metro stop, and he leads them to Bed, Bath & Beyond.

"So when I said date, I meant half-project, half-date," he says cryptically, "But I'll bet anything that you'll enjoy it."

She's been relatively quiet and trusting on the trip over, but now she's curious as to what she has gotten herself into.

"We're going shopping?" she asks suspiciously, thinking that there must be something else up his sleeve.

"Correction: you are going shopping," he instructs her. "I bought a bed this weekend, and we have a budget of $75 and a handful of coupons, and I thought that my _girlfriend_ …" He stops so that she can appreciate the full impact of the word, "Would appreciate helping me pick out linens and all that other stuff. I'm pretty sure allowing you to do that puts me in the boyfriend hall of fame."

She can't help but smile excitedly, because it feels as if all the hours she spends watching HGTV will finally have an outlet, and it will actually be fun.

There is one thing that gives her pause. "You bought a bed with the money that I … that I've … um… been giving you?"

His face falls, as it always does when she reminds him of his financial situation, and she regrets her statement almost immediately.

"I've been saving up for a while," he says, "You may have been fooled, but the yoga mat isn't exactly the most comfortable place to sleep. And, after Friday, I figured we could use another place to hang out that isn't half controlled by your roommate."

She nods, unwilling to pose anymore potentially awkward questions. He has a point, especially if their … extracurriculars will continue.

"I just have one request, Rach. Go easy on the gold stars, okay?"

III.

Her lifelong thriftiness pays off, and she actually manages to make his place look semi-decent on a budget of $75 and a handful of coupons. She chooses a navy and gold theme, and splurges on a gold star throw pillow, more as a joke than anything else.

The result of that emotionally draining weekend is that she now has frequent orgasms, and a new place to chill in Jesse's apartment, as long as she only comes and goes in the daylight.

His instructions, not hers.

Even though she had been acting against her better judgment, their friends with benefits relationship is surprisingly easy, partly because their new friendship is so effortlessly easy. Some nights they experiment with new recipes in his slow cooker, sometimes they study, and sometimes they get naked under the covers.

Nothing ever feels more important than anything else.

The girls are starting to accept her relationship with Jesse as part of the routine, and she basks in the popularity that she had envisioned from the start - being invited out on group dates and dinners, house parties at which she and Jesse are practically expected to spend all night groping.

Other than the almost unbearably awkward moment of handing Jesse a check every week for his "services," she can almost convince herself that everything is perfect.

And then comes the day that Finn Hudson walks back into her life.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Angst warning!_ _I'm not in the greatest Glee mood, and this is the reflection of that. _**

* * *

><p>I.<p>

Finn sees Rachel long before she sees him.

The concerned staff of Rachel's NYU dorm had been reluctant to let the unfamiliar boy into the building with Rachel absent, so he had decided to wait for her on the stoop, thankful for the abnormally warm mid-November air.

Nothing could have prepared him for what greets him twenty minutes later – Rachel, tucked into Jesse St. James' arm, both chatting animatedly and oblivious to the world around them.

Including him.

Finn does the cliché 'clear my throat and make them notice me' gesture, and there is a long, awkward silence as recognition sets in.

Rachel immediately sees the scene through Finn's eyes: Jesse's hand is in the rear pocket of her jeans, stealing the occasional squeeze of her butt, and under her open coat she's wearing a plain black t-shirt that is obviously several sizes too big.

Even Finn can put two and two together.

Now, from an objective perspective, she can appreciate some of the habits she and Jesse have fallen into, in the midst of their charade. He always holds her like this, like he wants to be as close to her as possible. She likes it, and has taken to wearing jeans whenever possible so she can feel the weight of his hand on her ass, and the feeling of being loved and wanted that accompanies it. It's other things too – the way he always turns her alarm off so that he can kiss or coax her awake, because he knows how much she hates hearing the upsetting, jarring sound first thing every morning.

There are things she does too – the fact that she texts him live updates and commentary on an awards show he is unable to watch because he has to work, or the fact that she comes back from the on-campus book sale with more books for him than for her.

Life imitating art, she thinks. Motives aside, they truly do act like a couple.

She can see all this reflected in Finn's gaze as he takes she and Jesse in and prepares herself for the censure that is sure to come.

Frankly, it's almost a relief that no explanation is needed.

Jesse is the first to break the silence, kissing Rachel on the cheek and informing both she and Finn that he's late for rehearsal and has to get going.

He may shoot Finn a menacing look as he goes, but Rachel is shocked and almost oddly proud that that is all there is. She hadn't expected Jesse to play it so cool with the closest thing he has to a nemesis.

The minute Jesse is out of earshot, Finn attempts to sputter out his disbelief.

"Are you kidding me, Rachel? What the hell is he doing here? Didn't he screw you over enough last time? Are you actually crazy?"

Those are all valid questions, but, Rachel reminds herself, Finn is the one intruding on _her_ territory.

She leads him to a nearby café, and into a booth in the back, though he's still seething from seeing her with Jesse.

"Why are you here, Finn?"

He noticeably bristles at the authoritative tone she uses, which she's known for, yes, but never in regard to him.

He seems to remember the reason he is in New York, and the reason he was on her stoop with a duffle bag, and from the looks of it, she won't like it.

"I need to talk to you," he says, almost evasively. "Quinn and I… the wedding is next month, and I, well, I just wanted to see you."

Rachel swallows hard, the tiny bubble of hope she had allowed herself all but gone. She will never understand why he always has this effect on her. She will never forgive herself for it, either. _Obviously_, this concerned Quinn. It's not as if he had traveled so far to beg her to take him back or to apologize for what he had put her through. He had never made that sort of effort when they were dating. Why should she expect that now that he was marrying somewhere else?

Still, her anger can wait. She's thankful that the focus is off her and Jesse for now, and her curiosity is more than a little peaked as to why Quinn Fabray's fiancé is sitting in front of her.

He smiles at her, and it's the same smile he had given her for years. It makes her feel like she could spend her life making him happy, with only that smile for sustenance. It's a dangerous feeling.

"I miss you, Rachel," he begins, and she bites her cheek. "Quinn is so frustrating, you know. Her and her mom and the wedding… it's like I don't even matter. You never made me this frustrated, and I always felt like you cared about me and put me first. I know in a million years that we will never be together, or anything … but I still have feelings for you and I always have. It scares me that I still think about you. I don't have any intentions of trying to rekindle our relationship or anything like that, but it's like how can I be thinking of you when I'm happy with her? I needed to talk to you about it, because I feel like you just get me."

She doesn't know how to respond to this. Finn has always been selfish and single-minded, but this is too much. But, wasn't some of it her own fault? It's not as if she had ever let on how much he had truly hurt her.

Even on the day she had found the empty condom wrappers in his trash can, a brand she knew with certainty they had never used because he could never be trusted with the responsibility of buying them, hadn't she simply just walked out of his house and changed her Facebook status when she got home? It's not as if he had seen the nights she spent crying into her pillow, or noticed the five pounds she had lost in two weeks until her dads had literally forced her to eat.

He was the one that had approached her at her locker and expressed a desire that they remain friends, and that he was sorry she had to find out the way she did. He had tried to tell her, he assured her, he really had.

So, from Finn's point of view, there is certainly nothing stopping him from asking her advice on his impending marriage. She's a safe harbor – it's not as if she has any feelings on the matter that need to be taken into account. To him, she's Rachel – lifelong loyal friend and perpetual doormat.

Why hadn't she realized it sooner?

"I don't know what to say, Finn," she tells him, the weight of all their history too much to go into now, "It sounds like you need to talk to Quinn. I'm sure that she wouldn't like it very much if she knew you were here."

"Nah, she knows better than to be worried about you," Finn says, laughing it off, not realizing how much his words sting her.

To her credit, she doesn't look back when she gets up and walks out. From the back, she's the image of the strong, confident woman.

It also means that he can't see the tears streaming down her face.

II.

"I've never seen you like this," Autumn says accusingly, once the director has had enough of them and sent she and Jesse to run lines "until they stop fucking up."

Jesse growls loudly and swipes at a lamp that goes crashing to the floor, but thankfully does not break.

Just when he thought he and Rachel were doing so well, Finn had to come back into the picture.

"What did she do?" Autumn asks, "Because this is obviously about Rachel. Am I right?"

Jesse tosses his script carelessly onto the ground, but refuses to answer her.

"Opening night is Wednesday, Jesse. This Wednesday. Whatever it is, you need to get past it. Romeo's a lover, not a barbarian."

"Talk. To. Me," Autumn says slowly, "I'm pretty good at listening."

"Rachel's ex came to see her," Jesse finally obliges her, though he seems reluctant. "The guy is a talentless Neanderthal."

"If that's true, then why are you worried? I'm sure Rachel knows how lucky she is to have you."

"One would think," Jesse tells her. "But she has this way of putting this guy on a fucking pedestal, even though he doesn't deserve it in the least and he screws her over every chance he gets."

"Surely she realizes that now that she has you," Autumn attempts to soothe.

Jesse shakes his head, dropping down to the couch and slamming his fists into his knees.

"I hurt her really badly when we were in high school, and she still can't see past it. She won't even give me a chance and we were doing so well!"

"You guys are back together again. She obviously _has_ given you another chance," Autumn rationalizes, confused at why Jesse feels so threatened.

Jesse realizes that he may be broaching unsafe territory given his and Rachel's arrangement. "Never mind," he mutters unconvincingly.

"Look," Autumn says, sitting down beside him and cupping his face in her palm. "You're smart, talented, hardworking, and incredibly hot. If Rachel can't see that, I know a million other girls who already do."

She holds his gaze for a couple of seconds too long, and Jesse senses her attraction to him.

He gets up immediately, the urge to kiss her almost intuitive, and she looks crestfallen as the reality of his rejection dawn on her, too.

"I…"

"No, that was my fault," Jesse attempts to clarify, running a hand through his hair. "Let's not speak of this again."

Autumn nods sadly and retrieves his script from the ground, making a show of reading through it with her back to him.

He has sensed Autumn's crush on him for a while, and he feels badly for putting her in such an unfair situation. He's already come so far, and he knows that if he loses Rachel again, it won't be because of some stupid, meaningless mistake.

He just hopes it won't be to Finn Hudson, either.

III.

He muddles through the rest of the day, and at 6pm on the dot, the close of rehearsal, he is surprised to get a text from Rachel asking him to come over.

He hasn't heard from her all day, which isn't usual for them anymore, but he had figured that he would be a free agent today. Rachel wouldn't need his "services" once Finn was around. Surely she wouldn't have told him about their arrangement because of his inevitable ridicule, but she wouldn't have needed to play up her new boyfriend around Finn either.

He's more than curious about how her day with Finn went, but then he grimaces and realizes that Rachel may actually want to keep up the charade of their relationship as some sort of dramatic revenge scenario to get back at Finn.

He braces himself for having to interact with the football player for whatever it is Rachel inevitably has planned. Whatever it is, he can't promise he will be as civil and cool as he was this morning.

She means too much to him to be tame around the guy that had broken her heart countless times.

He wishes she would admit she feels the same way. He pretends sometimes, whispering the words to her when she's still asleep, praying that somehow they will be absorbed into her psyche, willing them to manifest themselves. However, every time he catches a glimpse of her feelings for him – say for instance when she has a simple dinner waiting for him after a long shift or when she endures his need to study with Queen playing in the background – it's quickly replaced by a seeming unwillingness to trust him, almost as if he's hiding more eggs or another long-lost birth mother behind his back.

He doesn't yet know why it's so easy for her to forgive Finn Hudson for all the things he has done, yet it's impossible for her to even contemplate lowering her guard and just fully giving into the happiness he knows she feels with him.

But, unexpectedly, when Rachel answers her door, she's alone, and Finn is nowhere to be seen.

"Hi," she says cheerfully. "How was your second to last rehearsal?"

He sidesteps her question for one of his own. "Where's Finn?"

She sighs. "I don't want to talk about him," she tells Jesse calmly. "Mitra is staying at Jeremy's tonight and I've been waiting for you all afternoon."

She links her arms around his neck and kisses him, and it feels weird, because she isn't normally this direct when she wants them to be intimate.

She's still wearing his t-shirt from earlier, and she pulls it over her head now, leading his hands up to cup her bare breasts.

He's always been good at taking a cue, and he does as she likes, lightly squeezing while grazing his thumbs across her nipples, taking great pleasure in the sounds she makes.

After a while, he becomes impatient and shifts, one hand going for the button of her jeans, and she takes careful steps back towards the bed.

It's not until she reaches into a tiny box she keeps on the shelf and locates a condom that the feeling of something being completely off with her catches up to him.

He's respected her wishes not to have intercourse, even if he feels that her distinction between that and the stuff they actually do holds little to no merit.

Still, he sees no apparent reason to diverge from their routine now.

She senses his hesitation and smiles reassuringly. "It's okay," she tells him, "You can do whatever you want to me tonight."

If he were any other guy, those words would probably be music to his ears. Too bad he has always been different.

His hand had been on his zipper, ready to relieve the aching discomfort of the restrictive material, but he leaves it zippered and reaches for the shirt he had discarded seconds ago.

"What are you doing?" Rachel demands, reaching for his zipper and dragging it down herself, while trying to pull the shirt out of his hands.

"We're not doing this tonight, Rachel," he says conclusively. "I don't know what this is about, but you obviously don't want this."

"I'm telling you that I do!" she practically yells at him. "You keep telling me that it's okay to want what I want, and that nobody should judge me. Well, that includes you!"

"Well, we're not doing this."

"I'm paying you to be my boyfriend," she says in a fierce whisper. "I thought you said this just came with the territory. You didn't have a problem with this before."

"You want to know why? We've been doing this for weeks, Rachel. And this is the first time I've felt like your prostitute. You may be paying me to be your boyfriend, but I am not Finn Hudson's fucking understudy! You want him; you can go and have him. Leave me the hell out of it!"

She's stunned that he would think that and accuse her of making this all about Finn, when all she has been thinking about all day is how much happier she's been with him than she'd ever been with Finn.

"Get out," she tells him evenly. "Just go."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Unfortunately, this is not the end of Finn!<strong>_


	8. Chapter 8

_**I've never had a therapist, just really good friends who give great advice, so I apologize in advance for Anna's unconventional techniques. So angst is not in the official description of this fic, but when has there ever been romance without angst? I promise we'll have romance ... soon!**_

* * *

><p>I.<p>

"Did you believe him?"

In response to the question, Rachel looks over at her therapist, Anna, completely confused.

Rachel has just finished a 20-minute recap of her and Jesse's relationship back in high school, complete with cameos by Shelby, Run Joey Run, and the infamous parking lot egging incident.

"What do you mean?" Rachel states softly, hoping to avoid Anna's unsettling question with a practically ridiculous one of her own.

Anna rolls her eyes so Rachel can see she means business, and, despite herself, Rachel smiles.

On the recommendation of her therapist back in Lima, Rachel had gone to see Anna a week before starting at NYU. Anna's no-nonsense attitude and her ability to make Rachel feel like she was talking to a non-judgmental girlfriend had won the famously hard-to-please diva over immediately.

Over the past few months, Anna was the one she had unloaded on about how mean the girls in her dorm were, or about her fears of never making it to Broadway. She and Anna had spent hours analyzing her and Finn's relationship, trying to determine what exactly it was that Rachel was looking for in a future partner.

Anna always accepted Rachel's opinions and disagreed with her without being condescending. Even with her most intimate or negative thoughts and feelings, Anna never criticized or encouraged Rachel to believe or think differently.

Thankfully, Anna's uncanny gift of acceptance had also extended to Rachel's owning up to why she had been avoiding her office for the past few weeks: Rachel was presently paying her ex-boyfriend to pretend to be her current boyfriend.

Even Anna had raised an eyebrow at that one.

Taking Rachel's feigned ignorance in stride, Anna walks over to the small bar in the corner of the room and retrieves a package of dark chocolate covered espresso beans, aka 'the big guns.'

Sitting down again, Anna gets back to business.

"When Jesse told you that he loved you," Anna stresses, "Did you believe him?"

Without thinking, Rachel scoffs and folds her arms across her chest. "He cracked an egg on my forehead," Rachel contends. "What does it matter?"

Rachel looks up when Anna is silent for a long while.

"What?" Rachel asks defensively, feeling unusually self-conscious in Anna's presence.

"Nothing," Anna states unconvincingly. "I'm just wondering why it is that this is the first I've ever heard anything about Jesse. We've talked about Finn _ad naseum_ since you've been coming to see me, Jesse has obviously had an important impact on your life, and this is the first time I've ever heard you mention his name."

Rachel picks at the buttons in the upholstery of the couch for a long time. Anna knows her well enough by now that she doesn't expect an answer.

"You did believe him," Anna states cautiously. "Even with Vocal Adrenaline and all that stuff with your mom, you knew that he did love you."

Rachel looks away, but doesn't say anything to deny Anna's assertions.

"You felt the same way," Anna states suddenly, but with the utmost confidence.

Rachel shoots her a mean look. "It was all a game to him and Shelby. He would have said anything to get me to fall for him. He still left me to go back to his team and to go back to her. All he wanted to do was to get me into bed. Frankly, I'm not sure that has changed."

"Right," Anna deadpans. "Because you hand a condom to a guy and tell him to do whatever he wants to you and he turns you down because, according to you, all he's interested in is getting you into bed. Makes perfect sense."

Rachel sighs loudly, obviously reaching her breaking point. "That's why I'm here," she whines loudly, holding her face in her hands. "Every time I feel like I have the upper hand with him, he manages to turn everything around on me."

"I feel like you've been holding out on me, Rachel Berry," Anna half-complains, half-accuses. "We spend weeks talking about Finn Hudson – the guy who says 'I love you' every time you go on stage but who is also the guy you spend your entire high school career chasing after - simply to convince yourself that he means what he says and what you two have is real - until it all blows up in your face. And you neglect to mention Jesse – the guy who you date for six weeks and whose declaration of love has the ability to shut you down completely; the guy who you run to when you need someone to confide in and help you out with adjusting to life here in New York; and the guy who, for some reason, you can't even talk to me about."

Rachel swallows and folds her arms again, but still doesn't say anything.

Anna shakes her head, amused at Rachel's petulance.

"Let's start with the fact that you obviously trust Jesse. I can't ever imagine you going up to Finn and telling him that you need him to pretend to be your boyfriend because you have some sort of pathological need to be popular. You've never even told _me_ you felt _that _desperate about what was going on at school. Can we talk about that?"

Rachel reaches for a chocolate covered espresso bean, pops it into her mouth, but says nothing.

"Fine," Anna relents, obviously frustrated with the normally talkative girl's hesitation, "That was the hard ball question. How about a soft ball?"

The therapist crosses her legs and throws Rachel a cheeky smile. "What's he like in bed?"

The question has its intended effect when Rachel breaks, blushing furiously.

"Aha," Anna exclaims, "I thought so. Mazel tov!"

Rachel shakes her head at Anna, still trying to fight a smile.

"Aside from the fact that he turned me down last night," Rachel clarifies diplomatically, "I don't really have any complaints in that department."

All of a sudden, Anna's eyes go wide. "The list," she states dramatically, already rifling through Rachel's file for what she's looking for.

"Anna," Rachel scolds. "No."

"But it's the Rachel Berry 'Top Ten Things I Want in a Life Partner' list," Anna teases. "I want to see how Jesse stacks up. Since you refuse to tell me anything about the guy, I have to figure this out somehow."

Anna finds the list and waves it triumphantly in Rachel's direction. "So we've already crossed passionate lover off the list," Anna says with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

"Next is knowledge of all things Broadway," Anna says, raising her eyes to meet Rachel's.

"Check?"

"Check," Rachel says softly, sounding almost reluctant.

"Can he keep up with you vocally?"

"Check."

"Intelligent?"

"Check."

"Barbra and Celine?"

"Check and Check."

"Good listener?"

"Check."

"You realize he's already got Finn beat and we're on number 6, right?"

Rachel nods, but doesn't say anything else.

"Ambition?"

"Only rivaled by mine," Rachel states matter-of-factly.

"Confidence?"

Rachel scoffs. "More like arrogance."

"But that's still a check, right?" Anna asks.

"Fine. Check," Rachel admits.

"Romantic?"

"He can be," Rachel muses. "He's very good at gifts and surprises and planning things, but not overly so."

Anna starts tapping her pencil against the notepad. "The last one," she warns Rachel. "The most important. The one we couldn't define in one word and _had to_ use the entire chorus of an Alanis Morissette song."

_You see everything, you see every part  
>You see all my light and you love my dark<br>You dig everything of which I'm ashamed  
>There's not anything to which you can't relate<br>And you're still here_

"So," Anna broaches, "Does Jesse see all your light and love all your dark?"

Instead of answering, Rachel gets up from the couch and stands by the plant over by the window.

"I'm going to take that as a yes," Anna guesses, "Which means that Jesse is a perfect ten."

Silence.

"But you already knew that," Anna says, foregoing all games, opting now for the stark reality that they both can no longer ignore. "I think you knew that the day we made this list."

"Fine!" Rachel yells at Anna, something neither of them is used to. "But you know what's missing from that cute little list? He has to feel the same way about me! And I've been there with him," Rachel assures her, "I was so damn naïve! I stood on a stage and I told him that I would give all of myself to him, and all I asked of him was that he didn't hurt me. Do you know what that's like? Opening yourself up and giving yourself over to another person only to have him choose everyone else in his life before he chooses you?"

"Then why is he still here? Why is he still with you?" Anna challenges her. "Why is it so easy for you two to find each other when it would be just as easy - easier even - to stay away?"

"I'm paying him, Anna!" He's only doing this because of the money. The first time, he did it for whatever Shelby promised him or, I don't know, maybe just for kicks. It's not like he actually cares about me!"

"You pay _me_, Rachel, to be your therapist" Anna reminds her, "But I would hate it if you thought that I don't care about you as well."

"It's not the same thing," Rachel states childishly.

"According to you, Jesse is one of the most popular guys on campus, and every girl wants him. If he's not doing this for some other reason, you really expect me to believe he's desperate enough for minimum wage a week when all he gets in return is a blowjob every other day?"

Rachel lets out a loud breath. "I don't know why you're pushing this so hard!"

"Because I'm seeing a side to you that you've kept hidden from me for months! You invited Jesse back into your life; into your bed. Then, you try to treat him like you treated Finn – trying to control every aspect of your relationship so you can keep yourself protected or hidden away. But it's not working is it? Because it's not anywhere close to the same thing. Jesse's different. Am I right?"

Rachel has tears streaming down her face. Anna has never spoken to her like this. Actually, no one has ever spoken to her like this about Jesse. Most people had just assumed that Jesse had embarrassed her and she had moved on with Finn. She had convinced herself that that was what had happened too.

Anna is getting at something she's buried deep inside for years.

"I can't do this with him again," Rachel admits quietly. "You have no idea how much the last time hurt."

"Why not?" Anna dares to say. "Because this has a chance of being something real instead of some fairytale you dreamed up in your head? And because that scares the crap out of you?"

"Because he doesn't love me," Rachel retorts calmly.

"Everything you've told me today challenges that," Anna says, oddly calm after the heightened tones of earlier. "And since you came to see me today, I know there's part of you that feels the same way."

"Yesterday, I thought there might be a chance," Rachel admits, sitting back down on the couch. "Half the time, I remember everything from high school, and the other half I can't remember why it is I'm supposed to be so mad at him. We're just so natural together. But I can't even begin to figure out how to say that to him."

"What about an apology?" Anna poses. "Maybe it will jumpstart a conversation that has been years in the making."

"And then what?" Rachel asks, not excited by the concept of such an emotional conversation.

"And then you see whether you're his perfect ten too." Anna says, the most important part left unspoken.

Easier said than done.

II.

She leaves Anna and heads directly for Jesse's Starbucks, knowing that if she gives herself too much time to think, she'll chicken out of confronting him.

She's ready now to admit that she has feelings for him, but she doesn't know how to go from paying him to be her boyfriend to asking him to give her a chance for real.

When she enters the coffee shop, she is shocked to see Finn standing at the register, ordering what sounds like the most complicated drink known to mankind.

Jesse is trying his hardest to respond to Finn's demands with the utmost professionalism, but Finn keeps on changing his order halfway through his description, which causes everyone in line behind him to start arguing and cursing.

"Look, Hudson," Jesse says, finally reaching his limit, "We both know what this is about, so why don't we just take this somewhere else?"

"I don't think so Jesse St. Jerk. The customer is always right, and I'm very picky about my coffee drinks. Right here, right now – I'm the boss."

Jesse's cat-like reflexes are on full display, and before anyone realizes, Finn is covered in ice and milk, and Jesse's manager is apologizing profusely.

Rachel walks directly in front of Finn, and is somewhat pleased when he withdraws from her glare.

Ignoring him beyond that for the time being, she locks eyes with Jesse and, sensing that his manager is seething, asks him to come outside with her before things can get even messier.

Jesse shoots her a look that worries her because she is unable to decipher it, but he strips off his apron, and throws that, too, in Finn's direction before following her.

Outside, in the alleyway, she tries to calm him down and put her and Anna's plan into action all at the same time.

"I'm sorry about Finn," she says pleadingly, "And I also wanted to ap…."

"I'm done, Rachel," Jesse interrupts angrily. "You were right. We had an agreement and we should have never complicated it by going as far as we did. I don't want to be a part of this and I sure as hell don't want to get in the middle of the two of you again."

His eyes are cold in a way that she's never seen them before, and she feels her heart start to shatter.

"I think it's time you started drafting our break up."


	9. Chapter 9

I.

"I think it's time you started drafting our breakup."

Jesse doesn't give her time to reply, walking immediately back towards the coffeehouse and the manager who is waiting impatiently with arms crossed in the doorway.

Once he's out of sight, she collapses against the walls of the narrow alleyway and tries hard to swallow past the lump in her throat.

How had things turned out like this? She had been so full of hope when she had left Anna's office that morning, and she could never have envisioned her conversation with Jesse ending with him demanding that she fast-forward to their breakup.

To be honest, she hasn't given their once inevitable breakup any thought recently. She had been having way too much fun being Jesse's girlfriend to contemplate … not being Jesse's girlfriend.

When had the lines become so blurred for her? Aside from the brief moment of paying him each week, she can no longer remember a time when their fake relationship felt forced or forged on her part. Somewhere along the way, she had convinced herself that he felt the same way.

But now he wants to break up with her. ASAP.

Finn joins her in the alley, still cursing and dripping wet, and interrupts her thought process.

"He isn't even going to get fired," Finn says incredulously. "His manager said that St. Douche owed him one and now they're even. I swear that asshole is the luckiest bastard…"

Rachel looks at Finn, the right words escaping her at the moment. She decides it's not worth it and pushes herself off the wall, heading back towards her dorm.

Finn grabbing her arm stops her. He pushes his lower lip out, making him look like a sad little puppy that knows exactly how to get what he wants, and asks if he can come back to her place and get cleaned up.

She shrugs and says yes because she can't think of a legitimate reason to say no; because nothing seems to matter too much beyond the intense pain she's feeling on the inside.

Back in her dorm room, Rachel hands Finn one of her spare towels and directs him towards the community showers down the hall.

She breathes a sigh of relief when he's out of her immediate space, because all she wants to do is collapse on her bed and forget the last 24 hours ever happened.

When Finn gets back, she's curled in a ball and wrapped in the Elphaba-green Snuggie that Jesse had gotten for her from the Dollar Store as a joke. It's funnier now that it's obvious she adores the thing, and they've been known to fight over it when he comes over and they're both watching a movie on her bed.

Finn watches her as he finishes toweling his hair dry. "Do you want to go see if we can find somewhere showing the Knicks game?"

He drops the duffel bag he's been carrying around in the small space between her and Mitra's bed and starts searching through it, for hair products she assumes, which means that his crap is spilling all over the floor.

"What are you doing?" Rachel asks loudly and suspiciously, immediately sitting up on her bed.

"Searching for my hair gel," he responds matter-of-factly, his head halfway into the bag.

"You're not staying here," she says firmly, only a hint of panic evident in her voice.

"Come on, Rachel. I don't want to go back to that hostel, and I don't give a crap about what St. James thinks anymore. He may have been the shit in high school, but it's obvious that's no longer the case. Plus, I came to see you."

"Do you even remember our conversation yesterday?" Rachel asks disbelievingly. She's coming to the end of her rope. "Do you remember me walking out of the restaurant? I don't care what you don't give a crap about. For years, all * I * cared about was what *** you * **cared about and what you wanted. And where did that get me? The laughing stock of the entire school when it was obvious to everyone but me that you were screwing Quinn behind my back?"

"Jesse…" Finn starts to stammer.

"This isn't about Jesse!" Rachel yells. "This is about me and what I want, what I care about for once. And, right now, I want you to go. I don't want to be friends, and I don't want you here."

"You don't mean that," Finn says condescendingly. "You _never_ mean that."

"I do," she says solemnly, nodding to emphasize the point. "I don't care about the Knicks. I've been in New York for months and I've never been to a game. I don't care about football or Man vs. Food or sports cars or video games. I tried to care when we were together, but I don't have to do that anymore. You're marrying Quinn. You made your decision. Now, I'm making mine."

"So, basically you're saying that you faked your way through our entire relationship," Finn accuses angrily.

"I faked _a lot_ in our relationship," Rachel says, sounding just as angry, the double entendre escaping before she can give it too much thought.

It has the desired effect, hitting Finn where it hurts – his pride.

"And what?" Finn prompts, refusing to let her get the last word, "You think what you and St. James have is so damn real?"

His question strikes, unknowingly, at the root of all her current insecurities. She's paying Jesse to be with her. If anything, that's the opposite of real. However, it's real for her, and, it finally hits her, she would rather feel this way about Jesse and have him not return the sentiment than pretend her way through another relationship with someone like Finn.

Even if it means she ends up alone, she doesn't want to change herself to be _someone else's_ everything.

She owes herself that much.

"This has nothing to do with Jesse," she reemphasizes. "_I_ want you to go."

Finn hurriedly stuffs everything back in his duffel bag, zipping it up angrily.

Before he walks out, he turns back to look at where she is still sitting on her bed.

"You know, I don't even know who you are anymore, Rachel," he says in a tone that's meant to be hurtful.

He waits a split second for an answer but then turns, walks out, and slams the door.

Maybe he thinks he got the last word, but she knows better.

Whereas he thought he had wounded her when he said he didn't know who she was, inside she was screaming "Thank God for that."

II.

If only fixing things with Finn meant that things with Jesse were better, too.

Emergency sessions with Anna reveal what Rachel already knows: if she hopes to move forward with Jesse, she needs to talk to him about her feelings and reveal that she wants them to try a real relationship.

It's hard to muster up the courage to do that when it becomes obvious that he's avoiding her. He uses work and final rehearsals as excuses, so she doesn't actually see very much of Jesse again after the Finn debacle until Romeo and Juliet's closing night one week later.

She's been to the show's opening night and the Friday night performance, too, but he's always coming up with a reason that he can't join her after the show or why he can't meet her in between classes or for meals in the dining hall. She's gone by the coffeeshop during his shifts, but even though he's not obviously hostile to her in public, she can feel a new tension that didn't exist between them before.

It's the first time that making this relationship appear loving and happy requires effort on her part.

The entire campus will be at the show's after party, and she knows that if she and Jesse's charade of a relationship has a hope of surviving, they have to put on quite a show for everyone there.

If only she could get her "boyfriend" to feel the same way.

She's had her dress for this party picked out for weeks in advance. It's something she bought on one of her first shopping trips in the Village – a short, black, polka dot party dress with buttons all down the back. It's the epitome of high-fashion sexy schoolgirl librarian chic, and she was glad to finally have the perfect occasion to wear it.

She has always known that Jesse would love her in that dress, and she's hoping to attract his attention tonight. Her life would be so much easier if he would admit that he likes her too.

He's been engaging on stage throughout the week, but that last night he's practically flawless. She can tell from the expression on his face as he takes his bow – a mixture of pride, elation, and accomplishment - that he knows that he just gave the performance of his life. After curtain call, she meets him at the edge of the stage and hands over the gift she's brought him – a flask, similar to one that Romeo drinks poison from in the play.

For the first time in a long time, she feels like they're on the same page as he picks her up and spins her around, kissing her hard and deep in front of everyone.

Everyone is chanting his name and he breaks away prematurely when Autumn and the director literally drag him away, but she's left with a huge smile on her face and no doubt in her mind that she's head over heels in love with him.

Again.

III.

He had forgotten himself for a minute.

He doesn't think that anyone would blame him. Ever since his parents had disowned him and he'd been living in near poverty, he hasn't exactly had very many 'I'm on top of the world moments.'

And this was one of his favorite fantasies: him on stage, the audience cheering after he absolutely killed a performance, and Rachel, his girlfriend, supporting him.

Really, the only better fantasy is her on stage _with_ him.

So, he had kissed her, the way he has dreamt of doing every single time he's had this particular fantasy, forgetting, for the moment, that he had been trying his hardest to avoid her and their farce of a relationship for the past week.

He hadn't expected the smile on her face when he was pulled away from her, but, in hindsight, that makes sense too. He had just kissed her in front of a good portion of the school body, so even though they haven't seen each other very much this week, she just got her money's worth.

He wants her to feel the same way he does about her, and for the past few weeks he thought he had been steadily gaining headway, but he's coming to realize that's not the case. He had seen her leave the coffeehouse yesterday with Finn after their argument, which had hurt him more than he could express. Sure, Finn is engaged to Quinn, but when had that ever stopped Rachel before?

He's done being her second choice. The sooner they break up, the sooner he can put this all behind him and start getting over her.

Again.

So, as he makes his way over to the party with the rest of the cast, he regresses back into the mask of cool detachment that he's adopted with Rachel for the past week.

When he finally sees her, he realizes this isn't going to be as easy as he thought. He hadn't noticed earlier because he was overwhelmed by everything that was going on, but she's wearing a dress that is making his mouth water. It has these teeny buttons all the way down her back that are just begging for him to release them so that he can ravage her.

It takes all his strength to turn away from where Rachel is standing, waiting for him with two glasses of wine _in that dress_, and turn towards Autumn, who is demanding his attention by grabbing his bicep.

This week, the more he has ignored Rachel, the more time he's been spending with Autumn. He finds it refreshing that he knows exactly what is going on in Autumn's head. She obviously likes him, and he knows that it would mean the world to her if he gave her even the slightest little peck on the cheek right now. She's clearly inexperienced and probably a virgin, and, even though she's cute, he just doesn't like her like that. Still, that's what he's used to in relationships – him being with someone whom he feels little to nothing for until he's ready to move on.

His relationship with Rachel is the only one that he's never been in complete control of, and look how well that's turning out.

Once Rachel drafts their breakup and he's off the hook, it would be so easy to just be with Autumn and fall back into old habits. Until then, he can sit back and enjoy his former co-star's attention, as well as the reaction it produces in Rachel.

He would feel bad about it, but he gets some sort of sick satisfaction from Rachel understanding exactly what he feels when he sees her with Finn.

IV.

She can tell as soon as he walks into the party that he's back to ignoring her.

She fights tears as she watches Autumn stroke his arm, talking more softly than she needs to so that Jesse has to lean in to hear her.

She doesn't know what to do, especially since she can feel the eyes of the entire school on her, but she's saved from making a decision by a gorgeous, six-foot hunk that she recognizes immediately from one of her classes.

"Can I relieve you of one of those?" he asks in a deep voice, already taking one of the glasses of red wine from her.

She nods, an almost grateful smile appearing on her face thanks to the distraction.

"Sure," she agrees. "I'm not sure he needs it right now," she adds with a bit of a self-deprecating smile.

"His loss," the tall almost-stranger says flirtatiously. "Rachel, right? I think we have Biological Science together. Professor Flavia?"

Rachel nods. "Tuesdays and Thursdays at 8:00 am. How could I ever forget? Remind me of your name again."

"Sawyer."

Rachel turns completely towards Sawyer. "Have you started studying for her final yet?"

Sawyer takes a dramatic gulp of wine. "Nope. And I'm starting to get worried. I can't believe that we have finals in two weeks! I'm behind in all my classes."

"I know!" Rachel says, laughing. 'It's bittersweet for me, though. Hers is my last exam and it's on my birthday, so I'm kind of excited for it to be over and done with."

"No way," Sawyer says incredulously. "December 18th is your birthday? How's that for a coincidence? That's my birthday too."

"Small world," Rachel says, taking a sip of wine and smiling genuinely.

Across the room, people start laughing loudly, which draws both their attention to where Jesse, Autumn, and the rest of the cast are sharing in what appears to be an inside joke.

Autumn ducks her head against Jesse's chest, and Rachel decides that she won't be embarrassed like this anymore.

She drains her glass of wine and pats Sawyer on the arm, wishing him luck in preparing for exams, and then makes her way over to Jesse.

"I need to talk to you," Rachel says firmly, smiling knowingly at Autumn, looking her boyfriend in the eye, and leaving no room for argument. "Outside."

V.

He feels slightly guilty when he senses how upset she is as they walk onto the deserted, freezing-cold terrace. Maybe he had gone a bit too far in ignoring her tonight when he's supposed to be on the clock, so to speak, but he honestly doesn't care about their little agreement anymore.

It's going to kill him to keep pretending to be her boyfriend when he feels the way he does and she makes it obvious that she wants to be with Finn. An all-American tall jock; Sawyer Paul is the closest you could get to Finn Hudson outside the state of Ohio. Of all people, Rachel _would _gravitate towards him.

So, forgive him if he's milking the Autumn factor as much as he can. He's the victim of unrequited love, and she is the only weapon he has in his arsenal tonight.

He's angry at Rachel, and, the drunker he gets, the more fulfillment he's getting out of pissing her off.

When he answers her question, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" with one of his own "How's the breakup coming?" he knows things will be getting messy tonight.

And, of course, to add insult to injury, she's hotter when she's angry. Folding her arms across her chest in that dress makes him want her in a way he doesn't even think is logical.

He has been drinking all day, so she's less drunk than he is and seemingly intent on holding an actual conversation.

"I'm not sure how to do it," she confesses meekly, looking like she's second-guessing actually answering his question. "It has to be something … egregious. Something that makes you look bad so that I'll break up with you, but not make me look bad at the same time. Cheating is the obvious option, but I don't exactly want to be the girl who gets cheated on again."

"Autumn would be up for it," he says out of the blue, and maybe it's the liquor speaking, but even he can't believe he just went there.

He actually hears when she stops breathing.

"What are you trying to say?" she finally asks, sounding on the verge of tears.

Half of him wants to back out of this path he's found himself on, but it's warring with the other side of him that wants to see how Rachel reacts to this.

He feels trapped in this sham of a relationship, and he wants out.

He swallows hard, and says all in one breath: "I'm just saying that if she needs to play a part in our breakup, she wouldn't be against it."

It's a long while before Rachel speaks again.

"But we had an agreement," is the best she can come up with, and she's proud of herself for not completely breaking down.

The guy she's in love with just told her that he wants to cheat on her with someone else.

"This isn't working, and I can't do this anymore," Jesse says, speaking just as quietly as she is.

If she didn't know better, she would say that he sounds almost sad and apologetic.

But she does know better.

VI.

Despite what either of them wants, for tonight at least, they still have to pretend to be a happy couple.

But she knows that they won't be able to do that in front of everyone at the party, and she can't go back to the dorm because Mitra and everyone else would wonder why she wasn't celebrating the end of Jesse's show with him, at his place.

So, lacking any better options, she drags him away from the party and back to his apartment, explaining to anyone who asks that she has a surprise planned for him tonight and they have to head out early.

The bus ride back to his neighborhood is icily silent, both of them unsure what more needs to be said.

When he gets the multiple locks of his apartment undone, he heads immediately towards the yoga mat and comforter he still keeps in the corner, unfolds them and collapses, fully-clothed, unto them without saying a word to her.

Ever the gentleman, he left her the bed, but he clearly won't be sharing it with her.

Faced with his complete rejection, the tears start then, and she quietly wipes them away as she makes her own preparations for bed.

When she had put her dress on this afternoon, she had hoped that it would be Jesse that would be taking it off of her. Now, undoing the buttons awkwardly by herself, it's the saddest she thinks she's felt in her whole life.

She wants to reach out to him and tell him to come to bed, but she hates herself for even contemplating it.

He's made it plain tonight that he wouldn't be interested.

She finds one of his shirts hanging off the footboard of the bed, pulls it on, and tries to console herself with this small semblance of comfort.

VII.

It takes everything in him not to turn over, apologize, and demand that she let him make it up to her.

Even after everything that happened tonight, he loves her, and part of him doesn't care that she might not feel the same way. He just wants to hold her, make love to her, and pretend for a minute that he has everything that he wants, even if it disappears tomorrow morning.

He's hard just thinking about it, especially as he listens to her get undressed, so he presses his hips discreetly into the thin yoga mat, and bites his cheeks to solidify his resolve.

She's made it plain that she wouldn't be interested.

VIII.

She's awoken the next morning by the sounds of him leaving.

She rubs her eyes and asks sleepily, "Where are you going?"

"We have to break down the set today," he informs her. "The entire cast is meeting this morning."

She nods as he walks out, because, what else can she do? He's leaving her to go see Autumn again, and there are no words.

The sound of the door echoing in her ears, she gropes for her phone to check the time. When she sees that she has two text messages, she, illogically, assumes that it's Jesse apologizing.

However, the messages are both from a number she doesn't recognize.

_Hey its Sawyer__…__ just wnted 2 make sre u got home ok. _

* * *

><p><em><strong>I don't know what to say... Things will get better... eventually. Is that comforting? <strong>_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Thank you all for your great reviews! I love writing this story, and I am so glad that you guys are enjoying it! **_

_**This chapter is not as exciting as the last one, but it sets a lot of things in motion. I can't decide whether it's filler or the calm before the storm. **_

I.

He misses Rachel.

With the show over and Finn gone, everything feels like it should be normal between the two of them again. Sometimes, he can't even remember why he had been so eager to push her away in the first place.

He realizes now just how much time they used to spend together. Now he has nothing but time to concentrate on finals and making up the shifts he missed for rehearsal; endless hours to dwell on the fact that, beneath all the anger, he's still hopelessly in love with her.

He doesn't even notice he hasn't seen Autumn since the show ended until she starts texting him about random things – she happens to see Colin Firth walking in Soho (it's New York, honey, get used to it), or she watches a movie that she thinks he "absolutely" shouldn't miss.

His former costar is careful about never crossing the friendship line, but it's obvious that she's thinking about him when he's not thinking about her.

(Word to the wise, ladies: kiss of death.)

What he does notice is that it's been five days, and he hasn't so much as laid eyes on Rachel. He doesn't quite know what to do about that.

Correction, he does know, but he can't bring himself to face her inevitable rejection.

On the sixth day, he's practically jumping every time the door to Starbucks opens, because he needs her to walk through that door.

Just walk through the door, Rachel.

_Please. _

No dice. What he does get is a bubbly, demanding Brooklyn broad (he's been in Manhattan long enough that his distaste is almost automatic) who is way too much to deal with at six in the morning.

But she's kind of a sweetheart, babbling on about writing some how-to guide on rediscovering love after a failed marriage that had cost her most of her youth. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

He's so far gone that even the way this woman draws him into a conversation he doesn't really want to have reminds him of Rachel and how he finds her well-intentioned intensity endearing.

When he preps her order (skinny vanilla latte with cinnamon and a "dollop" of whipped crème, for the record) she takes a sip, sighs, and asks him, "Now what can I help _you _with? Is there a woman in your life?"

Now he's praying that _anyone _walks through the door. He has never been one for talking about his feelings, and, seriously, he'd take another go with Finn over talking about Rachel with this woman.

He feels crappy enough about that situation as it is.

But he's stuck. In some absurd twist of fate, everyone's skipping his or her daily caffeine fix this morning. Plus, this woman has this way of looking him in the eye that he would almost say was flirtatious, had she not been quite obviously in her forties and sporting a rock the size of Jupiter.

"I'm seeing someone," he mumbles noncommittally, reminding himself that he has no more 'get out of jail free' cards with his manager after dousing Finn with syrup and milk.

(Still completely worth it, by the way.)

"And?" the woman prompts, taking a sip of her drink.

"And … it's complicated," Jesse says, running a hand through his hair.

The woman rolls her eyes, but smiles at him. "I'm not going to get anything out of you, am I?"

Jesse laughs and shakes his head.

"Sorry. She and I … we sort of defy explanation."

"But she's worth it, I assume…?"

Jesse is silent for a long time. "You know, I used to think so. Today, I'm not so sure."

He pauses once more and looks at the woman. "That can't be good, can it?"

"No," she empathizes, shaking her head and looking down. "It's not."

II.

After almost a week of thinking over her breakup strategy, Rachel asks Jesse to meet her at a tiny Italian place not far from campus.

The maître d' seats her in the heated garden while she waits for Jesse, and Rachel chides herself for unknowingly picking such a romantic spot for this particular conversation.

But, after a week of Jesse not coming around the dorm and Rachel not gushing over their relationship, all the girls were starting to get suspicious. Consequently, the conversation to set their breakup in action is doubling as date night.

Sigh. How she got herself into this situation she will never know.

Always ahead of schedule, Rachel is fiddling with the ends of the pretty tablecloth when Jesse walks in right on time.

He is carrying a bottle of wine since the restaurant is BYOB, and it makes her smile. He's not legal as yet, of course, but he can accomplish a great many things thanks to his questionable fake ID and, moreover, that infamous St. James smile.

Her dads had allowed her to drink wine at home with them once she became a teenager, and it was one of the things that she and Jesse had bonded over this year. Tunnel, a hole in the wall and relatively inexpensive liquor store near his neighborhood, had become one of their routine spots.

The attentive waitress immediately uncorks their bottle and pours each of them a glass, which distracts for a while from the unease of beginning their first exchange since he left her in his bed almost a week ago.

"Hey," she starts clumsily. "Thanks for bringing wine."

He shrugs, masking the importance of his next words. "I know it's your favorite."

See? These are the things that make her remember why she loves him. Bringing her favorite wine? That right there is the Jesse St. James version of an apology for being a complete dick to her at the cast wrap party.

It doesn't solve any of their more major problems, but it's nice to know that he realizes he had been in the wrong, too. It will make the next few days that much more manageable.

"I've been thinking a lot about our breakup," she tells him as the waitress leaves the table. Rachel takes a deep, calming breath. "And I've decided that an epic, stressful breakup isn't what either of us need right now. We have finals coming up, my first finals ever in college, and I want to be as focused as possible on my work. I just think it would be best if we hold out until the end of the semester, and officially go our separate ways during the holiday break. We'll figure out what to tell people, but I'm sure they will accept that we grew apart or that our star-crossed love story was just too good to be true."

As she waits for his answer, she contemplates some of her more selfish reasons for keeping him on as her boyfriend, and not allowing them to break up just yet. Obviously, she doesn't want to be distracted by a breakup during finals, but she also doesn't want to be alone for her birthday. This way they can celebrate together, even if it is all a pretense, and she can live out fantasies she has had since she first met him at fifteen. Her plan also works because it gives her all three weeks of Christmas break to cry over him, and then ultimately get over him and design a show face for all the girls come January.

"Okay," he finally says, interrupting her thoughts.

She can't help a hopeful smile. "Really?"

The need to clarify something momentarily mars her happiness. "And you can … hold out until then?"

She silently prays he gets her meaning, because she can't bring herself to ask him directly if he can stay away from Autumn until the end of the semester.

He nods, but she's not sure he is aware of the point behind her question. "Your reasoning makes sense, and I'm sure I can survive being with you for another week."

He says "survive" jokingly, seemingly trying to be ironic, but it makes her heart plummet.

The waitress comes to take their orders just as Rachel surreptitiously slides checks for the last two weeks across the table to him.

It may be overly dramatic, but she really hopes that she can survive _without_ him when the time comes.

III.

Weirdly enough, things go almost completely back to normal between them over the next couple of days.

They're not doing anything remotely sexual, but they regress into their (other) old habits of studying at his place, cracking each other up, and feeding themselves with whatever concoction manages to come out of his crockpot.

What's more, she hasn't heard him mention Autumn at all. It's almost as if Rachel can forget the other girl even existed.

All this means that Rachel is feeling pretty good about their relationship, you know, except for the fact that it's a ticking time bomb. Thankfully, the craziness of finals distracts her enough from that reality, until Anna makes a point to remind her of it.

After her first couple of finals, Rachel makes use of the four-day gap before her next one to go pay her therapist a visit.

She should have known that Anna's sole goal would be to burst her bubble.

Rachel explains the agreement that she and Jesse have come to about their breakup timeline, and Anna is oddly quiet as she listens.

"So," Anna broaches carefully, "Do you think that you achieved what you set out to? Has this relationship with Jesse made you more popular, more accepted, at NYU?"

Rachel twirls the ends of her ponytail around her finger, thinking about all the new girlfriends she has in her dorm, and about the fact that Sawyer Paul now sends her funny, flirtatious text messages everyday.

"I think so," Rachel states carefully, because she knows that Anna is going somewhere with this line of questioning.

"So, come January, when you no longer have Jesse in your life, having friends and finding another boyfriend will be a piece of cake?"

Rachel shrugs. "I haven't given much thought to January as yet," she answers delicately. "I have all break to think about that, and I'm just glad that Jesse and I are in a good place right now."

"Why does that matter?' Anna asks harshly, surprising Rachel with her brashness. "In about a week, your relationship will be nonexistent."

Rachel tries to swallow the lump in her throat before answering, but the lump refuses to budge.

"Rachel," Anna chides, sounding almost loving, in stark contrast to the tone she had used just a moment ago. "You can't still be hoping that he will somehow change his mind and want to be with you when this ends."

Rachel looks away from Anna, still unable to say anything. Somehow, Anna pitying her and consoling her is far worse than the normally commanding and always-right tone she usually employs, and that Rachel has come to rely on.

"I went to see him," Anna confesses out of nowhere. "Maybe I shouldn't have, and it was probably wrong of me, but I wanted coffee, and I decided to go to his Starbucks… half an hour out of my way."

Anna watches Rachel's reaction as she continues speaking. "I didn't tell him who I was, of course, and I didn't say anything about you, but I asked him about the girl in his life…"

"What did he say?" Rachel interrupts eagerly, thankfully sounding curious instead of upset.

Anna hesitates and Rachel rolls her eyes. "You can't spring this on me and then not tell me what he said, Anna."

Her therapist waivers, tapping her pen idly against the notepad she holds in her hand.

"He wouldn't tell me much because, apparently, he's harder to crack than you," Anna attempts to joke, "But he did say that things were complicated."

Rachel folds her arms. "That's it? You're a crummy detective, Anna. No offense."

Rachel laughs a little, but she realizes that Anna hasn't joined in on the joke.

"That's not it. Is it? He said something else? Something bad? About me? About us?"

Anna hates herself for having to bring Rachel back down to Earth, but she feels that she would be doing an even greater injustice if she doesn't caution Rachel before the young girl gets her hopes up too high.

"I asked him if you were worth it," Anna says after a while, "If your relationship was worth all the complication."

"And?" Rachel says, obviously dreading the answer.

"And," Anna presses on, "He said he used to think so, but he doesn't anymore."

Rachel brushes away a tear.

"I'm sorry, honey," Anna consoles. "But I think you have to face reality."

IV.

She doesn't know at what point between leaving Anna's office and arriving at home that she decides to fight for him, just that by the time she arrives at her dorm her mind is made up.

She had spent a whole week thinking about it, and she refuses to accept that them finding each other again is mere coincidence, even if Anna now seems thoroughly convinced.

She had missed him. That was the reason behind her inviting him back into her life again. They were in New York, the place where Rachel had always envisioned them together, and they could do everything they had always dreamed of back when they used to give impromptu concerts in the music store back in Ohio.

She is going to show him that she is still worth it; that all that they are and all they will become will forever be worth it.

V.

Something's up with Rachel.

She has been extra touchy-feely lately, even when no one is around, and he has to restrain himself from touching her in a way that leaves no room for interpretation, or blurting out that she's making it really hard for him to pretend to not be in love with her.

Things have been going really well between them lately, and he doesn't want to think that, in a couple of days, it will all be over.

What's worse is that her birthday is coming up – she's going to be eighteen - and he can't help but think that it merits an epic celebration.

But what do you get your fake girlfriend for her birthday when her birthday is one of the last days that you will be a couple?

Yeah, he's pretty sure there's no Hallmark card for that.

In his head, he also knows that her birthday would also be the opportune time to declare his feelings for her.

He also knows that, if she was into him, _that_ would be the perfect present for her. She always did like those classic, blockbuster-movie declarations of love.

She comes over on Tuesday night to study for her last final, armed with her usual backpack and lunch-bag, plus a large shopping bag with a fancy wrapped present inside it.

He opens the door for her and peeks inside the shopping bag as she shrugs off her coat, scarf, and earmuffs.

"Early birthday present?" he pries, knowing that she's so particular about what she wants that she's not above buying it for herself.

She shakes her head. "Wedding present for Finn and Quinn," she informs him. "They didn't register so I have no idea what they need, but I found these vintage floral placemats that I think Quinn will like."

He shouldn't be as surprised as he is. He had read the email inviting her to the bridal shower and rehearsal dinner over her shoulder one night, but the determination with which she had scanned the email and then closed it had convinced him that the concept of a Finn/Quinn wedding upset her greatly.

That she would so calmly buy the happy couple a present and consider attending the wedding is not something he would have expected.

"You got them a present?" he asks stupidly, looking into the bag again as if the contents of the gift would magically reveal itself.

"I haven't read any of the etiquette books on the subject," Rachel states playfully, "But I'm pretty sure you bring gifts to a wedding."

"I didn't realize you were going," Jesse says while plugging in the electric kettle to make their first cups of coffee for the night. "I guess I just thought…"

He trails off, not exactly sure how to finish his sentence. "Never mind."

Rachel shrugs. "Finn could have handled things better, but he just accelerated something that would have happened eventually. If I were still with him, there is no way that I would have made it to NYU. No way that I would be here."

They don't talk about it any more than that, but, for the rest of the night, Jesse can't help but wonder if she meant _here _as in New York, or _here_ as in here with him.

VI.

"Wake up," Rachel whispers, gently shaking him awake.

He opens his eyes to see that Rachel is kneeling by his yoga mat, fully dressed.

"What's going on? What time is it?"

"Almost three," Rachel tells him, throwing him his jeans and a shirt. "We have to get going. Put on as many layers as you can."

"Where are we going?" he asks her groggily. "We both have finals tomorrow." And, even though it makes no sense, he adds, "And tomorrow is your birthday!"

She chuckles, obviously much more awake than he is. "I'll explain on the way. Get up!"

They make their way to midtown and to the Gershwin theater, which, for two weeks, is reuniting almost the entire Wicked OBC.

It's an opportunity that she hadn't wanted them to miss, and only the start of the perfect New York day she has planned for them.

Even at three am, there is a formidable number of people attempting the seven-hour wait until the box office opens, despite the fact that the temperature is in the teens.

They join the back of the line and a still-sleepy Jesse immediately sits down on the ground, his head leaning back against the wall, only nodding in response when Rachel promises to return with coffee and food.

When she returns with Trenta-sized lattes and an arsenal of baked goods, the girl behind Jesse goes into full-on bitch mode when Rachel attempts to join the line behind Jesse.

"He was obviously keeping my space while I went to get us nourishment," Rachel attempts to explain, much more short-tempered than her normal self at three in the morning.

"Well, he should have done a better job," the girl quips in a faux-sweet voice. "No cuts in line." Behind the girl, Rachel hears muttered agreement.

"I wasn't trying to save her a space," Jesse speaks up, causing both Rachel and the bitch to shoot him an incredulous look.

Carefully, he reaches for the drink holder and bag Rachel is carrying and lowers them to the ground, then he grabs her arm and navigates her so that she is sitting between his spread legs, her tiny frame taking up no more space than he had previously occupied.

'There," he says with a possessive throw of his arm over her, which causes Rachel to blush and the girl to fume.

They enjoy their breakfast as they snuggle closer together for warmth. Rushing a show in thirteen-degree weather is no joke.

After his coffee, Jesse is much more awake than he was before. "This was a great idea," he tells her, speaking directly into her ear since they are still so close together. "Except I'm really missing that Snuggie of yours right now. I'm freezing my balls off."

Rachel signals to the bag she is carrying with a smile.

"You didn't," Jesse states disbelievingly, as he opens the bag and retrieves the blanket.

"I plan for everything," she assures him, "And I could not forget the Elphaba Snuggie on the day we see Idina in Wicked. I think I'm going to ask her to autograph it!"

"You are amazing," he tells her as he ensures that the Snuggie covers them both, the need for warmth outweighing the embarrassment he would normally profess at being seen with the thing.

"You know," the girl behind them starts up again, "That kind of thing is illegal in public. Don't make me call the cops."

"Is that a threat?" Jesse challenges, making a show of trailing his hand alongside Rachel's cheek, then down her covered neck, then slowly into the no man's land covered by the Snuggie.

The girl can't see what he is doing under the blanket, so there is no reason to go as far as he does, grazing his thumb across Rachel's nipple until he can feel it protrude through the layers of wool she is wearing.

He takes great pleasure in the gasp that Rachel tries hard to mask as he starts a flicking motion, and decides to save her from further embarrassment by covering his mouth with hers.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you kill seven hours in line while rushing a show.

VII.

After they get tickets to Wicked, Rachel drags him to the skating rink in Bryant Park because they have a few hours before the show starts.

He hates ice-skating, and lobbies for them to do something indoors, but anything indoors would probably mean that they have to talk about whatever it is that they're doing today, and he's pretty sure that neither of them is ready for that step.

Avoidance gets him to this point – gripping tightly to the edge of the rink while Rachel attempts to persuade him to join her on the ice.

Here's the thing: he doesn't trust these skates. He's a born dancer and he can admire the grace and athleticism it takes to do this, but he doesn't understand the logic, or the physics, behind balancing yourself while standing on two thin blades of steel that are sharp enough to sever, well, pretty much _anything_.

One wrong fall, and he could chop himself in the leg (or worse). Someone could come over and skate right over his fingers. It just doesn't seem like a good idea. Okay?

"Come on," Rachel urges him. "Don't be a baby." She's laughing, and she looks happier than he has seen her in a long time.

She, of course, has been doing this since she could walk, and he's not exactly looking forward to showing her how much this kind of terrifies him.

She skates over to him and grasps him around the waist, holding tight. "Trust me," she says so that no one else can hear her. "I've got you."

She's looking at him in this way that makes his insides flip-flop. She's not making fun of him as he thought she would.

"Fine," he says, trying to make it sound like it's not a big deal, but he reaches instinctively for her waist as he detaches himself from the wall.

"Don't. Look. Down," Rachel commands. "Just look at me."

He does. Maybe his dance training has served him well, but they're moving together in short bursts alongside the edge of the rink. Rachel, ever a great teacher, is not moving him too far from his comfort zone of the wall.

They do one entire lap, and when they get back to where they started, Rachel claps her hands, as do some little girls that have likely been watching them the whole time.

"See?" she says, "We made it."

She lifts her arms from his waist to around his neck and moves to kiss him, but she second-guesses herself at the last second, lowering her forehead to his chest.

"I think we disappointed our audience by not kissing," he whispers in her ear, waving at the little girls that are still watching them. "Mind if I rectify that?"

Her smile is big and goofy as she nods, and there is no way in hell that she's faking it.

Right?

VIII.

The show and its five encores are all amazing, but, by the end of it, they've been awake for so long that they pick up dinner and head back to his place for an early night. Both of them have finals the following afternoon.

They are recapping the show and eating slices of cheese pizza on his bed, when he pointedly grabs the almost empty box and moves it to the kitchen counter.

She is biting her lip as he walks back towards the bed.

"We should probably … talk," Jesse starts, uncharacteristically nervous.

Rachel nods as he sits back down next to her on the bed.

Neither of them knows exactly how it happens, but, soon after, she's on her back and under him, her hands adamant in their efforts to get his shirt off.

"Rach," he says at some point later, when his hands are threading through her hair.

She shakes her head at him. She doesn't want to talk.

"Please touch me," she pleads, kissing, then sucking, on his Adam's apple - his weak spot, she knows - until he does exactly what she wants.

IX.

Once again, she wakes up in his bed as he's getting dressed to leave.

Seeing that she is awake, he comes over to her and kisses her on the cheek.

"Happy Birthday," he says in a soft voice. "I have to go. My final is in an hour."

"Will I see you later?" she asks, sitting up in bed, "I should be done with my final at around four, and then I'll be free."

She can see the moment he hesitates, and it absolutely kills her.

"I have to work tonight until closing," he informs her. "I'm sorry."

She's expecting him to follow up with maybe seeing her tomorrow, or apologizing for not spending time with her _on her birthday_, but those are things only a real boyfriend would do.

He leaves, and she collapses back onto the bed, wondering how she's going to get a few final hours of studying in when she feels as if he just crushed her heart in his fist.

From out of nowhere, there are two successive beeps, and she realizes that he had left his phone still plugged in by the bed in his rush to get out the door.

She picks up the phone in case he returns for it, and doesn't think twice about reading the text message the screen proclaims just arrived from Autumn.

_Hey! We still on for tonight? Can't wait ;-)_

Her tears burn as they fall. How could she have done this again? She realizes she and Jesse have nothing left to say to each other.

Autumn has said all there is to be said.


	11. Chapter 11

**_To northstar61, who inspired the parts she will recognize. _**

I.

Rachel leaves Professor Flavia's Biology exam with a sense of dread, praying to whoever will listen not to punish her twice.

Playing hooky from studying yesterday shouldn't cost her both Jesse _and_ her future at NYU.

Life can't be that cruel.

She visibly startles when someone comes up behind her and covers both her eyes with their hands. Hope flutters within her – Jesse? – but the difference in height and smell alerts her sooner rather than later that it's Sawyer who is behind her.

She can't even pretend to be shocked.

"Surprise!" he says excitedly, finally dropping his hands and coming around to face her. "Wasn't that exam a bitch?"

She nods sadly, but he doesn't seem to notice, or care about, her diminished spirit.

"So, birthday girl, where are we going to celebrate?"

She tries to get out of it, but her excuses fall on his intentionally deaf ears. It's her 18th birthday, all her finals are over, her "boyfriend" is at work, and it's Sawyer's birthday, too. Really, what excuse does she have?

A 'Shroom burger and a Fair Shake are enough in line with her initial plans to drown her sorrows in junk food that she goes along with Sawyer's Shake Shack suggestion, agreeing without too much protest to allow him to pay for her food, too.

When there are no empty tables, he makes the predictable suggestion of heading back to his penthouse apartment around the block to continue the afternoon with a movie. She knows it's a bad idea, especially when one of his selling points is a brand new cappuccino machine his parents have gifted him for his birthday, but, again, it's her birthday, her "boyfriend" is ignoring her and sleeping with someone else, and, given the craziness of her life, she just wants to have a little _fun_.

And it is fun. Sawyer is blessed with the natural gift of superficiality – he can talk to anyone about anything. Seriously, they manage to talk for twenty minutes about Professor Flavia's pseudo-European accent, and he tells her about going to dance camp when he was eight when she mentions that she is going to be on Broadway someday. In his defense, it is _sort of_ related.

Once the movie starts and they're sitting on the couch, she can tell that he's contemplating exactly how to make his move. He finally decides on allowing the arm around her shoulders to fall to her hip, and allowing his knuckles to graze her sides every four seconds.

She can practically hear him counting.

When she turns to him to at last acknowledge what he's doing, he swallows guiltily. "I really like you, and I won't tell anyone."

Those words surprise her more than anything else that's happening right now. She's been so much in her own head; she has forgotten what this must look like from his point of view.

That's the danger of a charade – sometimes it works.

But, technically, she's unattached, a free agent, and Anna's words are echoing in her head. What will she do after Jesse is no longer in her life? She refuses to go back to being the social pariah she was before, and having Sawyer Paul as a boyfriend will help things in that department considerably.

Plus, she almost wants to do this. She wants to prove to herself that getting over Jesse is possible. She wants to prove that she doesn't have to pay someone to pay attention to her.

She can do this.

She can.

He starts thrusting his tongue into her mouth almost immediately, and if he weren't such a bad kisser, she thinks regretfully, things might have actually gone somewhere between them.

She's actually sad when she unconsciously, but determinedly, pulls away, because she realizes it's going to be a long time before she gets over Jesse enough to be willing to let someone else into her life.

She furtively wipes his spit from the side of her jaw and then onto her jeans, not meeting his eyes.

"I'm really sorry," she apologizes, "I want to … it's just…"

She trails off because anything she says now will be a lie. She does want to - in the logical, practical sense – but in the emotional sense everything is too raw, too new, too hurt.

He kisses her again, and there's less of his tongue this time. Better, but still not what, _not who_, she wants.

"Call me when you're free of him," he tells her as she gathers her stuff and rushes to the door.

She nods at him as they face each other at his door.

Then the door closes, and she can finally breathe.

II.

She feels numb as she gets into the elevator and leaves Sawyer's building, almost jumps out of her skin when his doorman wishes her a "Good day."

She can't tell whether it's the guilt or the greasy burger still sitting heavy in her stomach that is making her feel nauseous, but she ignores her symptoms and heads to the gym anyway.

It vaguely occurs to her that she's punishing herself when she refuses to allow herself to stop running at full speed, though her calves are screaming for mercy by her tenth minute on the treadmill

The pain works really well at drowning out the thoughts in her head.

Because what is she supposed to do now? Come tomorrow, she and Jesse are over, and she has no idea how she is going to fill the void.

_He doesn't think she's worth it anymore. _

That's the thought that is playing on endless loop in her head right now. He's the one – her perfect ten – he knows everything about her, and she always thought that he would love all of the parts she hated most about herself. And he had. She is convinced he had appreciated her drive, her underhandedness when it came to show choir and competition, but somehow during this experiment he had seen a part of her he didn't like.

Somewhere along the way, she had lost him, and she doesn't know how to get him back.

She breathes a sigh of relief when the girls' locker rooms are empty, because she doesn't want to deal with anyone right now.

She takes a long shower, contemplates whether if she goes to bed now she can forget the fact that her 18th birthday ever existed.

Clad only in her towel, she makes her way back to her locker to find that her peace and solitude have been disturbed by none other than Autumn, who is in the locker room getting changed into her workout clothes.

Maybe life really is that cruel.

"Rachel!" the other girl states nervously. "What are you doing here?"

"It's a gym," Rachel states in a mean-sounding tone, "I went running, I showered, now I'm getting dressed."

"Right," Autumn concurs, "I just thought you would have plans tonight. Jesse told me it was your birthday. Happy birthday, by the way," the redhead finishes meekly.

"You talked to Jesse today?" Rachel questions, sounding suspicious.

Autumn blanches, starts crossing her arms and shuffling her feet. "Yes … no …, not really I guess. I invited all the Romeo & Juliet cast over to my dorm because BBC is marathoning the miniseries tonight, but no one was really interested. Most people didn't respond to my invite," she continues self-deprecatingly, "But Jesse texted me and said he was working tonight, plus it was your birthday. I just figured you guys would have plans…."

Autumn seems oblivious to Rachel's lack of response, or the confusion her words have caused. She continues her nervous monologue. "I thought I would come watch it on the television here so at least I wouldn't be by myself, but it doesn't seem like anyone is here, either. I guess everyone else has a life…"

Standing in front of her, hearing this self-conscious rant, Rachel is now able to recognize the insecurity in Autumn she hadn't been able to see before, through the lens of her jealousy about Jesse. It's the same type of insecurity or desperation that had urged her to pay Jesse to be her boyfriend.

If that is so, it dawns on Rachel, then it's quite possible that Jesse has never touched Autumn. The girl obviously hadn't had the benefit of being the focus of Jesse St. James' attention.

Rachel dresses quickly, and leaves the locker room without saying too much to the other girl, even after Autumn wishes her good luck with exams and tells her to say "hi" to Jesse for her.

If she were a bigger person, Rachel thinks, she would assure Autumn that she was pretty, that she was talented, that college girls sucked and everyone felt alone at some time or another.

What had Jesse told her that first night? The night she had first asked him to be her boyfriend?

_"It will get better, Rach. Everyone sets out to prove themself in New York so they act like assholes. Just give it time and remember that you're still better than them."_

But she doesn't say any of this to Autumn. She does fight tears on the way home, hating herself for jumping to conclusions, and for jumping into things with Sawyer.

Yet, even if she was wrong about Jesse and Autumn, that means that Jesse has no excuses for not wanting to be with her. She has no excuses to explain why he doesn't want to be with her.

He just doesn't think she's worth it, doesn't want her, doesn't want to be with her.

If possible, as she leaves the gym, Rachel feels even worse than she did before.

III.

To top off her amazing day, Mitra is home.

Rachel doesn't want to explain why it's her birthday, finals are over, and she's not off celebrating with her boyfriend, so she says nothing to her roommate as she toes off her boots and falls face-first onto her bed, her freshly-washed hair on its way to drying into unkempt blobs.

The sharp corner of a parchment envelope resting on her pillow jabs her in the nose on the way down.

The envelope has her name on it, written in beautiful calligraphy.

She turns over and addresses her roommate. "Did you leave this here?"

Mitra shakes her head, pointing to her 'Happy Birthday' message to Rachel on the whiteboard they share, which had been the only acknowledgement she had made of Rachel's birthday thus far.

This time, it is Jesse.

_Letter of Resignation_

_Dear Rachel,_

_I write to inform you that I am resigning from my current position, effective immediately._

_Thank you for the opportunities and experiences you have provided me during the last few months. I have enjoyed my tenure with you, so much so that I realize that this could never be a simple acting exercise for me. _

_I want you, Rachel, and I must have the real thing._

_This may be quite surprising to you, but I know in my heart this is the **only** right decision, and I can only pray that you feel the same way._

_I have loved every moment of being with you, and I do hope our paths cross again in the near future._

_Forever yours,_

_Jesse St. James_

_P.S. Starbucks closes at 10pm tonight._

She reads the letter twice in disbelief, to ensure that she's not seeing things, and to convince herself that it doesn't end at the first paragraph, which had caused her heart to stop when she had read it the first time.

She looks at the clock by her bedside, 9:50pm, and immediately jumps out of bed.

IV.

With everyone out celebrating the end of finals or studying for finals yet to come, Jesse's Starbucks is a dead zone. By 10:20, he's already stacked the chairs, swept the floors, and even reorganized the spice rack. He can think of no more tasks with which to distract himself from the fact that Rachel hasn't come.

He knows for a fact that she had gotten his message – he had had Mitra text him to let him know that Rachel had seen the letter before the girl had headed to the library to study for her final exam.

He can't bring himself to call her and confirm that she's not coming, so as he closes the shutters on all but one window, he decides to give her until 10:30 before he heads home.

He's leaning against the doorway, ready to leave in his coat and scarf, cursing the plan that had seemed so brilliant and ingenious when he had come up with it this afternoon, when he hears what sounds like high heels sprinting down the sidewalk.

Rachel is a mid-December contradiction in a pea coat, strappy sandals and bare legs, no hat, no scarf, hands bare, and curls flying.

It doesn't seem to matter when she runs straight into his arms.

"I'm so glad you're still here!" she states anxiously. "I didn't want you to think that I wasn't coming!"

"Could you blame me? It's almost 10:30, Rach," he chides her gently, kissing the top of her head. "And Rachel Berry is never late."

"I know," she states glumly, "But you have no idea how long this dress takes to button up, my hair was an absolute disaster, and my curling iron takes 15 minutes to heat up to its optimum temperature."

"I got here as soon as I could," she states so solemnly that it makes him laugh.

"I would have taken you in whatever state you were in," he tells her. "Way to make a guy sweat after bearing his soul to you."

She pushes out of his embrace, peers up at him with bright eyes. "I wanted tonight to be perfect. Because this is it. Right? I read your letter correctly? I'm not making this up? You want to be with me just as badly as I want to be with you? For real?"

He nods at her line of questions, leans down to brush his nose against hers. "Yes. Thank God you feel the same way."

She slaps him on the arm as he snakes it around her waist again. "Could I have been any more obvious?" she asks exasperatedly.

"Okay, okay," he states with a laugh, "Looking back, maybe there were some obvious moments, but there was Finn and then that Sawyer guy was obviously after you, and I didn't want to go through all that drama again, but, after last night, I needed to know."

At the mention of Sawyer's name, Rachel stiffens, though Jesse doesn't seem to notice. In all the excitement of Jesse's letter and getting dressed to meet him, she had completely forgotten about how she had spent her afternoon.

She covers his lips with two of her fingers, silencing him. "I don't want to talk about the past anymore. I'm freezing, and I want to go back to your place so that I can show you how I've felt for the past two months."

"A tempting offer," he teases her, "And one that I will definitely take you up on, but you need to remember one thing, Rach. You're not the boss of me anymore. I'm pretty sure that I resigned today, effectively immediately."

The smile that escapes her is huge. "Okay," she agrees. "What do you have planned?"

He pulls her by the arm back into the coffeeshop and flips the light switch so that she can see the table he has laid out for them, complete with cupcakes and a sparkly gift bag.

"Happy Birthday," he whispers directly into her ear. "And don't worry, we'll still explore your penchant for bossing me around, only we'll do it in the bedroom."

He leaves her side to light the sparkler candles that outfit the cupcakes, and everything is so perfect she starts to tear up.

"Make a wish," he instructs her, blowing out the match.

Instead of closing her eyes as he expects, she turns to him. "I don't need a wish," she states seriously. "I just…"

He's looking at her expectantly, and it isn't until she reaches up to run her fingers through his hair that he realizes that despite everything that's happened tonight, he still hasn't kissed her yet.

Duh.

They've kissed in the last few months, obviously, but not when they were both on the same page about being completely in love with each other.

Come to think of it, he hasn't said that, either.

Rachel Berry deserves epic romance.

He steps towards her, and, for some reason, it feels like his first kiss all over again.

It's chaste at first, but he gently eases his tongue into her mouth, which he knows she appreciates, and is rewarded by that little moan she makes that never fails to get his blood flowing southward.

"I love you," she whispers as they break the kiss, and he thinks he loves her even more for being the first one to say it, for not leaving it all up to him.

"I love you too," he repeats, feeling slightly panicked until he reminds himself that she's already said it, and he can now put his doubts of the last few months to rest.

It still feels like a dream. She loves him too, and there are no more secrets between them.

"Now can we go back to your place?" she jokes, reaching over to blow out the candles without much fanfare, swiping her finger through some of the icing.

"There's still more," he tells her, feeling almost reluctant as she makes an obvious show of licking the icing off of her pinky.

Tease.

"There can't possibly be more," she tells him, and he grins at the obvious happiness and contentment in her voice.

He reaches for the shopping bag and loops it around her wrist. "I hope you like it. Happy Birthday!"

She gasps when she sees the distinctive blue box, but that's nothing compared to her reaction when she opens it and sees the bracelet for the first time.

"Wow," she says breathlessly, before she looks up at him, confused. "Are these real? But Jesse, how can you afford this? This must have cost …"

"Around $1200 dollars? Just about. Since you were paying for something you already had, I figured this would be a _much_ better investment."

She's still staring in amazement at the bracelet when he frees it from the box and fastens it around her wrist.

"Gorgeous," he compliments her, interlocking her fingers with his, and kissing her on the lips. "I've always wanted to buy you your first diamonds. Technically, you paid for them, but one day I will remedy that, I promise."

He stands and grabs the box of cupcakes. "_Now_ we can go."

V.

They hail a cab so that they don't have to wait for the bus, and so they can make out in the back seat.

When they finally make it inside his apartment, they stare at each other for a long time.

"This shouldn't feel as different as it does," she babbles. "We've done this so many times. I mean, okay, technically we haven't done _it_, but it feels … different."

She's talking to him as she unbuttons her coat, and he doesn't seem to realize that she's expecting a response.

"Earth to Jesse!"

He literally shakes his head to clear his thoughts, and then grins lecherously at her. "Sorry – but I don't think you realize how captivating you are in that dress."

She smiles. "I was thinking about you when I chose it," she confesses in a sexy voice, turning her back to him. "It has all these buttons down the back. I thought you would have fun with them." She punctuates her sentence with a wiggle of her butt, which draws his attention to where the buttons end.

She giggles as he grabs her around the waist and pulls her down into his lap as he's sitting on the bed, grinding himself into her back. "Now I can't decide whether I want you to keep the dress on."

"Hmm," she mock sighs, trailing her fingertips up his arm as he holds her. "Part of the reason I was late was that it took me such a long time to figure out what to wear for you _under_ the dress." She tilts her head. "But whatever you want…"

She smirks to herself as she feels him start prying at the buttons, cursing as each one doesn't give way as readily as he wants it to.

"This dress is going to be the death of me," he complains, resting his forehead against the back of her neck as he trails his fingertips and then his lips tantalizingly across the bits of her spine that become exposed.

When he's through with the last button, she stands up and shimmies out of the dress, leaving her in a black lace strapless bra and matching thong.

She looks over her shoulder to see exactly the expression of dazed wonder that she had been going for.

"I didn't even know you owned a thong," he tells her, reaching to unclasp the bra, flinging it uncaringly across the room so that her breasts are exposed to his greedy hands.

"They're not very comfortable," she admits, "But I didn't think that I would be wearing this one for very long."

He growls and spins her around so that she is facing him, and one of his hands leaves her breasts to caress her exposed butt, so that it doesn't want for attention though it's now hidden from his sight.

"It's different," he tells her, picking up the thread of their conversation from earlier, "Because I'm not holding back anymore. There were things I wouldn't do because I thought they would be too obvious. But, after tonight, you will have no doubt how I feel about you."

The gravity with which he says it leaves no uncertainly in her mind she's in for one of the best nights of her life.

He starts by kissing the spot just under the waistband of her panties while he rolls them down her legs. Then he moves lower, kissing down to right above where she needs him, gripping her butt in a way that makes her gasp.

He's not going straight for her clit as he normally would. He's taking his time, being much more intimate in touching every inch of her, in a way that he hadn't allowed himself to before.

He was right; she has no doubt how he feels about her now.

She stands waiting patiently, completely lost in heightened sensation, as he undresses himself, and goes willingly once he leads her to lie down on the bed.

It feels amazing, she thinks as he makes himself comfortable next to her, to finally give up even the semblance of being in control.

She wants to show him how she feels, too, so she reaches down to grasp him firmly in her hand, stroking him lightly as he inches his fingers towards the sweet spot between her legs.

He delves inside and she instinctively grips him harder, which causes him to swear.

So much for taking it slow.

She feels him pull his hand away, so she does too, opening her eyes, trusting implicitly, and awaiting direction.

He sits up in the bed, draws her into his lap so that she is sitting facing him, eye to eye. His arms are around her back and her knees are snug against his shoulder blades.

She didn't think it was possible to be this close to another person.

He reaches up and tangles his hands in her hair; kissing every part of her he can reach. "Is this okay?" he asks softly, "I want you like this."

She nods, understanding instinctively that he wants them closer, in every sense of the word: looking at each other, feeling each other, taking care of each other.

For the past two months, they've been physically together but still emotionally separate. Now he's leaving no room for doubt that they're irrevocably joined.

Literally.

She wouldn't have it any other way.

The position takes some getting used to, but she really likes everything about it once they get going. She likes that she feels safe and cocooned in his arms, but that she can call the shots; that they can kiss and talk and still be having sex all at the same time.

As he runs his finger under the bracelet she still has on, she decides to herself that this might just be the best birthday ever.

VI.

The next afternoon, he has to go back to work, but they take the long way, walking hand in hand, with him kissing her goodbye on the steps of her dorm, just like she had charted out in what now seems like a lifetime ago.

She smiles to herself as she watches him walk away. It's all perfect, and all 100% true. No need for charades anymore.

Mitra is in their room with a group of her, and now Rachel's, girlfriends, all excitedly pouring over something on the computer.

Mitra smiles at Rachel as she walks in.

"Hey girls, make way for my slut of a roommate."

* * *

><p><em><strong>For those wondering, there should be 2 chapters left in this story.<strong> _


	12. Chapter 115

_**Missed me? ;-) Sorry for being AWOL, but life has been super duper crazy lately. Thank Hurricane Sandy for this update, but also blame her for how short it is. For those of you who are sticking with this story, enjoy! BTW - I have nothing against people who work at Starbucks. Some of my good friends do!**_

I.

Recognizing trouble, his manager shoots her a nasty look when she comes rushing into his Starbucks. After the incident with Finn a couple of weeks ago, she's earned quite the reputation as the troublemaking girlfriend.

She just hopes that this time will be different and there will be no need for dramatics.

She calms herself down by repeating to herself over and over that Jesse loves her. Last night they had talked and made love, had held hands and confessed all the secrets they had kept from each other over the last few months.

All, that is, except one she had conveniently neglected to mention.

Jesse meets her eyes as she walks in, but taking the order of the customer at the register quickly distracts him.

It feels ludicrous, but she waits her turn in line as Jesse rings up the guy's chai tea latte, NY Times, and overpriced Bob Marley CD.

The guy moves over to the bar, and Rachel comes face to face with her boyfriend for the first time since her world imploded.

Her thighs still hurt from straddling him for so long last night. Funny how this is what she thinks of in moments like this.

She opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

Because, if he hasn't yet heard what's been going around campus about her and Sawyer, this isn't exactly how she wants to tell him.

And, if he has already heard, then why the hell is he so calm? Does that mean he already dismissed whatever he's heard?

Usually, she can read him quite well. Whether it's her own anxiety clouding her judgment, or really him just playing it cool, his face is completely, frustratingly, passive.

The silence stretches on for too long, and Jesse finally raises an eyebrow at her. From somewhere beyond her left shoulder, she hears his manager snicker.

Asshole.

Jesse shoots his manager a glare then looks back at Rachel, who is still undecided as to which path to take.

Jesse sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. "Rach, look," he says almost casually, not looking at her, "I want a simple, one word answer. You just need to tell me whether or not it's true."

"Uh…."

Her mouth has literally dropped open, the world as she knows it disintegrating around her. She wills her jaw to close, forces herself to say the words.

"I can explain," she whispers and she can feel the inevitable crushing impact of those three little words. Her eyes start to tear and her throat trembles in a way that will make saying anything else immensely difficult.

And she can explain. Based on what Mitra had accused her of back at the dorm, the tweets on their school's gossip account had widely exaggerated the next to nothing that had taken place in Sawyer's apartment.

"Don't bother," he finally says in a mean tone, turning back to the espresso machine and obviously dismissing her.

"Just get the fuck out."

II.

Of course, that's not the end, and, when he comes home to find her in his apartment waiting for him, he actually tries to ignore her.

"Jesse, please," she attempts, getting up and crossing the small space to reach out to him.

He shrugs off the hand she places on his arm and still doesn't say anything.

"After last night you can't possibly think that there's anything going on between me and him," Rachel says, the hurt evident in her voice. As much as she knows she's in the wrong, there's part of her that is so pissed that he can treat her this way after what they shared last night and this morning.

"I love you," she pleads. "You know that. Last night, I…"

"You mean when you fucked me right after you fucked him?" he interrupts angrily, and he sounds like he's about to start throwing things – not something she would have ever thought him capable of.

"I didn't," she clarifies softly, all the while feeling like she shouldn't have to. "How can you accuse me of that? He kissed me – that part is true – but the rest is all lies. I could never have slept with him."

"It doesn't matter," he responds petulantly.

"How can you say that?" she retorts angrily. "It was a kiss. It meant nothing. We weren't even officially together at the time!"

"Not officially together?" he echoes incredulously. "So all of that talk about this being real for you the whole time was all a bunch of bull? Not officially together because you had to play the field until you decide what it is you wanted?"

"That's not what I meant. Stop putting words in my mouth!"

"But it's so fucking okay for you to put words in mine? I was your fucking pawn. How could I have been so blind? You got exactly what you wanted. It girl on campus, popular, star athlete boyfriend, and all at the expense of publicly ridiculing the guy that put everything on the line for you! Boy does that sound familiar. I can't believe I fell for this again. You got exactly what it was you paid for!"

"This isn't that stupid video again, Jesse! What happened back then has nothing to do with this. I choose _you_. I love _you_. I made a mistake, and I should have told you, but he means nothing to me. _Finn_ means nothing to me. You _know_ that. I only want you."

He's quiet, walking over to their crockpot and tossing the dirty ceramic part into the small sink so violently it causes her to wince.

Sensing some hope in his lack of response, she walks over to him, threads her arms around his waist, and lays her head against his back.

"Please don't be mad at me," she pleads softly into the fabric of his shirt. "I know I made a big mistake."

He still doesn't say anything.

She draws nonsensical figures into his chest from behind. "Even when I was really mad at you about the eggs," she attempts to soothe, "Furious even, there was always a little part of me that still loved you. Even through all of that, I knew there was a part of me that wanted to talk to you, that couldn't help but forgive you one day. All I need to know is that you feel the same way."

She means it as a comforting gesture, something to ease the tension and make him smile. They've survived rocky roads before. They wouldn't be here otherwise. He loves her. She knows he does. Him forgiving her is only a matter of time, really.

"I don't know, Rachel," he says suddenly, completely startling her.

"Jesse …" she says almost exhaustedly. How much longer is he going to put her through this?

"When am I not going to feel like second best for you Rachel?"

His tone, completely defeated and pained, as much as his actual words cut through her like a knife.

"You're not second best to me, Jesse," she answers him rationally, trying to mask the hurt his words have caused. "You're always going to be the love of my life."

"Please," she tries again.

"Look around you!" he bellows, pushing away from her and causing her to jump. "_Every day_ of my life I feel like crap. I live in this shitty apartment, my parents have disowned me, and what I eat for dinner depends on how many tips I make in one of the most humiliating jobs on the planet. Yet, like an idiot, I keep striving for the one thing that makes it all worth it."

He's facing her now, and he looks furious.

"I really did believe you loved me, Rachel. I really believed that we were going to be this amazing couple together and it would make everything else okay."

"We are," she declares defiantly, walking back towards him.

He shakes his head, dismissing her words. "You're part of the problem," he says solemnly. "You're part of the reason I feel like shit all the time."

All the life force drains out of her when he says that and she doesn't know how to recover. She loves him, fully and truly, but that's not enough to make him feel good about himself.

This has little or nothing to do with Sawyer. She makes him feel like crap. She is the problem.

In anger, she unclasps the bracelet she's been cherishing and ogling all day and literally throws it in his face.

"No need for this anymore," she informs him on her way out of the apartment. "I guess I did get exactly what I paid you for. Thanks a lot."


End file.
